World Witches: The Great Divide
by SirStonewall
Summary: After six years of constant fighting, the humans have finally managed to achieve peace with the Neuroi, but with this unification brings an even greater gap between East and West. Stuck in the middle of it all is a pilot who has her orders, Whether she likes them or not.
1. Prologue

**[A/N]: Howdy! I hope y'all enjoy the story, and if you do then make sure to leave a review telling me what specifically you like!**

* * *

Wilkes made her way through the clouds over the divide in Berlin, expecting the barrage of flak that had accompanied previous attempts in clear skies. Her heart pounding in her chest harder and harder the further she goes into East Karlsland territory. Her De Havilland Mosquito strikers buzz loudly on her legs, and though she has a Bren, she is lacking an abundance of ammunition, traded for a camera for Photo Reconnaissance. Every so often she pulls a map out of her jacket and scrutinizes it before hastily cramming it back into the fleece-lined jacket and fearfully glancing over her shoulder. Twenty minutes into the flight she descends below the clouds, slinging the automatic rifle on her back and preparing the camera.

Ten thousand feet below her sits the primary airbase of the region, hosting hundreds of witches along with a few hundred fighters and bombers. The first few photos are blurry, so she's forced to descend even further, much to her discomfort, and linger even longer over the hornets nest.

After snapping a few dozen photos she turns to the northwest, not using the same route to return in case the ground crews called for fighters, and stays below the clouds, comfortable that no flak crews will shoot at a plane this far behind enemy lines. Another five minutes pass by, and after a quick cautious glance over her shoulder Wilkes notices a tight column of vehicles on the highway below.

"Hanover command, this is Canary. be advised, primary mission objective complete. Addition, enemy armored column containing at least three-zero tanks inbound from Frankfurt. My location is currently grid Hotel four-two, status is Romeo Tango Bravo. Canary out."

Releasing pressure on the earpiece Wilkes tightens her grip on her bren and accelerates, now trying to run the northern patrols and get back over friendly lines.

Everything is perfect, until it's not.

A glint on the lens of her glasses brings her attention to the sky above her, and her heart skips a beat when she finds nothing but blue skies, and a single black dot, high above her.

"Ooohh please don't see me…" she whispers to herself, accelerating further. She flies inverted, her back to the ground as she carefully watches the enemy witch for any sign that she's been noticed.

Her worst fears are confirmed when the dot gets progressively bigger, turning into a humanoid shape, and then into a short blonde girl toting a MG42.

" _Shit!"_

Unable to run from the diving witch she loads the bren and goes into a lazy right turn, trying to fool the witch into diving straight in at her and overshooting. The tactic works, though only to a certain degree. The witch dives in for the kill, and Wilkes turns into the attack, causing the burst of tracers to miss by a country mile.

The victory is short lived however, because when the witch zips past Wilkes notices the personal insignia on the girl's BF-109 striker unit.

A black tulip.

"Wait, blonde, short, fast as hell, and a black tulip... _oh shit._ "

She tries to run back to the cloud bank, and radios back to base while she has the time. "Hanover, this is Canary! I need fighters at my previously listed grid coordinates _now!_ I've got another witch climbing up my skirt! Someone please respond!"

Glancing over her shoulder she finds the witch slowly gaining after climbing again.

{Canary we'll send what we can but you're going to have to get closer to friendly lines.}

"Trude, it's The Black Devil."

{I'm on my way, try to stall her for as long as you can!}

"It's too late, she's going to catch up to me. I've gotta fight her."

Flipping onto her back she cuts the camera loose, letting it fall to the ground as she takes aim at the blonde head and pulls the trigger.

The bren empties its entire magazine in a few seconds, and while Wilkes is exchanging the magazines the blonde witch gets within firing range and cuts loose, ignoring the black smoke that belches from one of her striker units.

Wilkes dodges right, but still takes two bullets to the chest and gut before she can raise a shield to protect herself.

Her strength suddenly weakened due to the pain, she dives for the deck and finishes loading the box magazine into the bren, but places her hand against the bullet hole in her stomach, trying to last just a little longer.

"Mayday… mayday…mayday. This is Canary… I'm hit, and going down…"

The longer she stays in the dive the more numb her legs grow, until she can't feel them at all. Watching the ground race up at her she drops the bren and braces for the inevitable crash.

She smashes through the roof of a small single story building and slams into the ground, making a big crater in the floor.

"Ow…" She groans, her breathing becoming more labored as she extracts herself from the battered striker units and drags herself over to a desk in the corner, leaving a small line of crimson on the concrete floor of what used to be an office. By the time she's braced herself against the side of the desk there's a small trickle of dark blood running down her chin from the corner of her mouth, each ragged breath sounding more and more like a vulgar gurgle with every passing minute.

"This is… Flight officer Janet Wilkes… reporting… mission failed…" She wheezes out, ignoring the sound of a striker engine outside. "If anyone's there… I'm sorry." Slowly she reaches up and pulls the earpiece from her ear, gently placing it on the ground before smashing it with a fist.

Mere seconds later the door to the building opens, and the same blonde steps in, a Luger clenched steadily in her right hand, a small medkit in her left.

Wilkes looks over at her, spitting blood onto the floor. "Come to finish… the job?"

She holsters the luger, her eyes soft and sympathetic. "No… I can fix you up, we'll get you home once this is all over. I'm sorry that I had to do this."

Wilkes looks at her for a brief second before shakily lifting her right hand, her middle finger raised high in defiance. "Go to hell."

"Eh…? Are you kidding me?! Look at yourself! If you don't get medical attention you're going to die!"

"Good… better than leaving my friends."

The witch strides over, kneeling down beside Wilkes, despite the Britannians resistance.

"Get the hell… away from me."

"I'm not letting you die when I can help you." The East Karlsland witch restrains one of her hands and starts holding a field dressing to the bullet hole in Wilkes' chest.

"Just let me die you bitch…" Wilkes wheezes, trying to shove her away with her free hand.

"Not gonna happen, now hold still so that I can-eh?" The sudden absence of weight on her right hip brings the girls attention to Wilkes' free hand, which has lifted her luger from the holster, and holds it by the barrel. Wilkes puts all of her strength into the swing and clubs her upside the head with the pistol, knocking her down and freeing Wilkes' right arm.

Wilkes grabs the pistol by the grip, takes aim at the dazed blonde, and pulls the trigger, only for it to stop halfway.

"Damn it… where's the bloody safety?"

Wilkes fiddles with the pistol for a second before the blonde recovers from the blow earlier and jumps on top of her, wrestling for the handgun.

"I don't want to fight you anymore! Just give me my gun and let me patch you up!"

"Like hell, shut up and d-"

 _*POW!*_

The sharp report of the pistol makes their ears ring inside the small building, Erica gasps in shock and Wilkes lets out a sharp exhale like she'd been punched in the gut, their wrestling having suddenly ceased when the gun went off.

Wilkes and Erica look down down to see another bullet hole in the former's chest, directly in between her two small breasts.

Underneath her, the blonde holds the pistol, but Wilkes' thumb is inside the trigger guard, pinning her index finger to the trigger.

"N-no! It was an accident! I-I didn't mean to!" Cried Erica as she took back the pistol.

"That's the ticket…" Wilkes groans, rolling off the blonde and laying spread-eagled on the blood-spattered concrete floor as her blood pools around her even quicker than before. She stares up at the blue sky above through the hole in the roof and takes short gasps of air while she grabs a locket from her jacket pocket. "Sorry Trude… I couldn't do it…"

The blonde all but throws the pistol across the building and scrambles to Wilkes, putting pressure on the new wound. "Stay with me! We can still get you home alive!"

Wilkes slowly turns her head, looking at the blonde before weakly raising her hand and touching the black tips of her hair. "Cute…I-I can see...W-why Trude ta-lks...about...you...Black...Death."

The last of her breath escapes her bloody lips in a drawn out sigh, and her hand falls limply to her side, her eyes staring unyieldingly at the blonde knelt beside her.

The witch slowly removes her hands from the wound, and hangs her head as she wipes the blood from Wilkes' mouth before reaching up and moving her eyelids down, holding them closed until they stay shut on their own.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you… I hope you can forgive me…" she whispers, tears streaking down her cheeks and dripping off her chin into the pooled blood.

Grabbing Wilkes' hands she folds them on the fallen Witches chest over the brass locket and bows her head respectfully. "Rest easy."

Suddenly the locket springs open, revealing a color photo of an unawares Trude, which makes the blonde shed even more tears "Trude...I'm sorry."


	2. Chapter 1

**[A/N]: Welcome! if you're reading this then chances are that you were even moderately interested by the prologue, so please leave a review giving your opinion or pointing out any plot holes!**

 **As always, enjoy!**

* * *

"Hanover tower, four C-47 transports and one B-24 callsign 'Eclipse' requesting permission to land."

A curvy raven haired beauty sits behind the controls of a B-24 Liberator while it cruises at four thousand feet. Behind it fly four C-47 transport planes in a long stretched out column.

{Eclipse, this is Hanover tower. You're cleared for landing. Bring the transports in first, then you can come in last.}

"Rrrroger that Hanover tower, coming in for a flyby while the transports land."

The girl pushes on a button on the radio in the copilot's seat and adjusts her throat microphone. "Y'all are cleared to land. I'm Pulling top cover while you landed, so make it quick."

{Roger that Sergeant, we're coming in now.}

She noses the lumbering bomber down into a dive, pulling the four throttles back while the plane gains speed in the dive. She levels out at two hundred feet above the ground and flies over the airstrip before ascending and going into a counterclockwise holding pattern over the airbase. Only after the four transport planes have safely landed is she allowed to land, and she expertly brings the plane in, cutting two engines just before touching down. The bomber slowly rolls to a stop, and with the help of a jeep she guides the plane over to a parking space, where numerous other bombers sit.

"I guess this is home now." She mumbles, looking out the window after shutting down the systems. "Maybe they'll treat me better here than in training…"

Further down the line of aircraft she watches two witches walk side by side in her general direction.

"Well… here goes nothing."

Grabbing her large duffel she drops out the nose and hikes the bag up on her shoulder before approaching the two witches.

"Hazel Ellerby reporting from Liberion ma'am." She salutes the ginger-haired witch, who bears the insignia of flight lieutenant.

"At ease, you don't need to be so stiff around us. Welcome to Hanover."

"T-thank you lieutenant. Could you point the way to the base commander?"

"Sure thing, follow me."

The young Romagnan girl accompanying her, hugs the ginger's arm possessively, and is shuffled along towards the air traffic control tower.

"So how far out of flight school are you?"

"Four weeks ma'am."

"You don't need to call me ma'am. My name is Charlotte Yeager, just call me Shirley. This is Lucchini."

Hazel nods respectfully to Lucchini, who sticks her tongue out.

"Lucchini, show some respect to the new girl. She's probably nervous enough as it is." Shirley scolds her, slapping the romagnan on the shoulder. "Isn't that right Sergeant?"

"Yes lieutenant Yeager."

Shirley huffs in irritation as they enter the tower, and leads the way to a door on the right. Hazel steps forward, taking a deep breath before knocking. A muffled voice rings out from the other side. "Enter!"

She pushes the door open and strides in, closing it behind her prior to holding a salute. "Sergeant Hazel Ellerby reporting for duty."

"At ease sergeant. Where are your papers?"

"Right here ma'am." Hazel says as she unzips her jacket and pulls out a bunch of folded papers, handing them to the Karlsland officer.

"Aerial reconnaissance…" The woman hums as she reads over the papers, carefully scrutinizing every detail. "You're a neuroi hybrid?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I see… you're dismissed. Report to the neuroi barracks and get yourself a bunk. The chow hall is open all day."

"Yes ma'am."

Hazel pivots on one foot and strides out, leaving Barkhorn to file her papers. Outside the office Shirley and Lucchini wait, with both looking very nervous.

"Y-you're a hybrid?"

Hazel sighs, grabbing her bag and heading towards the door. "Yes Lieutenant. I hope you aren't mad at me for not telling you immediately."

She walks out, heading towards a bunch of worn-out and decrepit looking barracks across the runway, in the far corner of the base.

The closer she gets the more decrepit the barracks starts to look. Cracks run the entire length of the building, several windows are boarded up, and the white paint is peeling off.

"Lovely. It's in even better shape than in basic."

Two witches take off and fly overhead before climbing into the clouds and disappearing from sight as she walks into the barracks.

"Who ya' here for human?" A Neuroi witch asks from a nearby bunk.

"I'm here for a bunk. I just shipped in today."

The neuroi regards her with two red eyes. "This is a Neuroi only barracks. You've got the wrong place."

Hazel turns around and shifts her raven hair to one side, revealing a black hexagon in her skin at the base of her skull.

"Oh, I see… sixth bunk down on the right. Make yourself comfortable. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you. I'm Hazel, though I guess my callsign would be more appropriate, I'm Eclipse."

"Welcome Eclipse, I am called Rose."

Hazel shoulders her bag again and walks down the aisle, moving past more Neuroi witches, who eye her cautiously until she's away from them.

When Hazel drops her bag on the assigned bunk the Neuroi witch in the bunk next to it swivels on her bunk to face her. "Why is a human bunking with us?"

"Hybrid. I guess I'm an even bigger abomination than you guys… no offense."

"None taken. We know we're treated as lesser beings. I'm Hex, interceptor and escort."

"Hazel Ellerby, callsign Eclipse. Photo reconnaissance and heavy bomber."

Hex makes a sound that is similar to a sigh. "You're going to be sent out on the crazy missions. So enjoy your time while you can. The last witch that slept in that bunk defected because she always got sent on the suicide missions."

Hazel flops down on her bunk. "Great. Just what I trained for, one way trips."

"Well, you better get some sleep. I'll bet that Barkhorn is going to have a mission for you tomorrow. I'll wake you up when it's time for you to eat."

Hazel pulls a wool blanket from her duffel, drapes it over herself, and promptly falls asleep, leaving the Neuroi witches to talk amongst themselves about the new arrival.

* * *

"Hey, get up. Closterman just came by to get you up. Your briefing is in ten minutes in the tower." Hex shakes Hazel awake, giving her a cup of coffee. "I don't know how you like your coffee, so it's black."

"Thanks Hex." Hazel mumbles, sitting up and graciously accepting the coffee.

"Get suited up and get into the briefing room. Breakfast is after briefing." Hex continues, lighting up Hazel and her bunk in a red glow so she can see.

Hazel takes one brief sip of coffee before she sets down the cup and starts getting ready. Stripping off her uniform from the previous day and donning her form-fitting 'blue bunny' heated suit under several other layers.

"You're going to overheat." Hex warns, dimming her glow.

"I'll be fine."

"Oh, okay. Get moving, if you're not early you're late."

Hazel pulls one last thing out of her bag and stuffs it into the inside pocket of her flight jacket before grabbing the coffee cup and walking out into the night, headed in the general direction of the tower.

* * *

"Hello Sergeant, I hope you got enough sleep last night, because today's going to be a big day." Shirley greets Hazel when she walks in. Hazel merely grunts a hello and sits down, nursing the cup of coffee.

"Sergeant… I'm sorry about yesterday. I was a bit taken aback. I didn't mean anything by it." Shirley says as she sits down beside Hazel, looking the rookie in the eyes.

"No, I understand. You thought at first that I was fully human, but since I'm not I just fall into the category of equipment. I'm a sword, a weapon to be thrown at the enemy. That's what they drilled into me throughout training."

"That's… not what I believe. You're just as much a human as you are Neuroi. You're different from the Neuroi Witches."

"If you say so… I get the impression that the CO doesn't like Neuroi."

"She doesn't. Let's leave it at that before she walks in."

Hazel hums in approval before draining the last of her cup. Setting the cup down beside her foot she pulls out a small book from her flight jacket.

"Is that a bible?" Shirley asks, watching her bow her head and mutter a small prayer.

Hazel finishes the prayer after a minute and stuffs the bible back in her jacket. "Yes. If I wasn't religious before I got drafted then I sure am now."

Shirley gets ready to speak, but Hazel swiftly stands up and snaps to attention.

"At ease." Barkhorn hums in amusement, walking up to the front of the room while Hazel sits back down.

"Good to see you here early Hazel. I've got a good first mission for you."

"Thank you ma'am. I'm ready for whatever you can give me."

The projector in the back of the room whirs to life, and a picture of an airfield is projected onto the wall in front.

"Today's target will be the enemy airfield near Frankfurt."

Hazel grins wildly, practically licking her lips in anticipation.

"And your ordinance…" The slide changes, showing a bunch of pieces of paper. "Will be propaganda leaflets."

Hazel's smile and enthusiasm disappears in an instant.

"You'll be escorted by three witches to the airfield, you'll drop your ordinance, and then you'll make your way back on your own. Wheels up at oh-six-thirty. Any questions?"

"Yes ma'am. Where's the chapel?" Hazel asks, earning a cross look from Barkhorn before she answers.

"Opposite of the runway from your barracks. That is all. Dismissed."

Barkhorn quickly leaves, and Hazel buries her head in her hands. "I'm dead. There's no way I'm making it back alive. She expects me to kick a hornet's nest and fly back on my own without any fighter cover? This is a suicide run!"

Shirley rubs her back to comfort her. "You'll make it back. I have confidence in you."

Hazel groans in irritation before grabbing her coffee cup and standing upright. "Let's get this over with."

"Look on the bright side, I'm one of your escorts."

"Yay… I get to die in the presence of someone I barely know…. sorry if I don't sound too enthusiastic, It's how I deal with things."

Shirley shrugs while following Hazel out of the briefing room. "You're a realist. Now let's go get some breakfast before we have to saddle up."

"Lead the way lieutenant."

In the mess hall dozens of pilots, witches, and ground crews all eat a breakfast of eggs, toast, and sausage at long tables. Hazel gets her serving and sits as far away from everyone as possible, ignoring the glares and the stuff the pilots mutter behind her back.

"Hey, isn't that the new pilot? I heard she's a neuroi hybrid."

"What a freak! Hopefully she'll eat it first flight out and we won't have to deal with her anymore."

Hazel grits her teeth and continues eating her breakfast while Shirley walks over to a table of officers and sits down, clear across the mess hall from her.

She's just finishing her coffee when a pilot says something a little too loudly and she hears it.

"She'll probably just bitch out and defect like that last neuroi witch did."

She swills the last of the coffee and slams the metal mug down on the table, making some of the nearby pilots jump and earning the undivided attention of everyone in the mess hall before she stands up, grabs her parachute, and stalks out to her plane to begin loading the weapons.

* * *

She spends an hour dragging belts of .50 caliber ammunition into the plane and loading them into the guns, each belt being nine yards long. Then, just as she's finishing her checks on each of her control surfaces she hears a jeep approach.

"Hey Hazel! You alright?" Shirley jumps off the jeep and it speeds off, leaving them to talk in relative privacy.

"No I'm not alright. I'm scared out of my mind and it sounds like everyone on base hates me just because I was born different." Hazel huffs, shining a gooseneck flashlight into the exhaust of one of the engines.

"Don't let it get to ya'."

Hazel moves onto the next engine and repeats the same thing with it before answering. "Respectfully lieutenant, how can it _not_ get to me? It's like if someone treated you like shit just because you're from Liberion. It's ridiculous."

She crawls under the fuselage and shines the light up the exhaust of the next engine. "This is what I'm talking about! Some imbecile stuffed newspaper into the exhaust of this engine trying to sabotage my plane!" Using a pole she manages to pull the fuel-soaked newspaper from the exhaust and moves on to the last engine, finding it to be clear she turns off the light and walks to the nose of the bomber.

"Don't you have a striker to check or something? Rather than following me around like a lost puppy?" She stops in her tracks. "I'm sorry… that came out wrong. Could you give me some space please? I'm just really pissed that people are still trying to sabotage my plane. I've been dealing with this clear through flight school."

"Yeah, sorry. I'll see you up there, try not to start the party without me."

Hazel waves over her shoulder before climbing into the plane and closing the hatch behind her.

* * *

The base soon buzzes with activity as dozens of other bombers get ready. Jeeps hauling crews and ammunition run about like taxis, ferrying men to their planes while trucks fuel up the thirsty bombers. Hazel watches the men laugh and joke with each other while they climb into their planes, and ducks down into the nose to wave down a passing jeep.

"Hey there soldier, got a smoke?"

The jeep driver quickly produces an entire pack of cigarettes and tosses them to her before driving off to pick up another bomber crew.

Hazel simply tucks the package in her breast pocket and climbs back into the bomber, throwing on a heavy flak jacket over her flight suit and cinching it down tight. She waits her turn while the other bombers start up, and once it's her turn she turns over the engines one by one, expecting one of them to blow up or catch fire at any time. The startup goes without incident, and while the engines are comfortably purring the ground crews all clear out.

Hazel fits her headset on, and slips a throat microphone on, plugging it into the radio in the copilots seat.

"Shirley this is Eclipse, radio check."

{I gotcha Hazel. We'll join up with you when you take off.}

Hazel rolls her eyes, adjusting the throat microphone slightly. "Roger that Shirley. I'd like to remind you that I'm given a callsign for a reason, and it's required by the army air corps Neuroi law that you use it while on mission."

{I hear ya Eclipse. We're waiting for you.}

Hazel brushes her bangs out of her eyes and throttles up, locking the throttles on her two inboard engines and using her outboard engines to steer onto the taxiway behind the other bombers, some being the larger B-29 'superfortress', while others are the equally sized B-17.

The pack of cigarettes feels heavier and heavier in her pocket as she slowly taxis down the runway, and she finally caves in, taking one of the thin white cylinders out and sticking it in her lips. "I'm sorry lord, but I need a little more comfort than just you." She mutters, opening the window and lighting the roll of tobacco. Almost immediately she starts hacking and coughing, but still keeps puffing on it for a second before throwing it out the window.

"Not my best idea."

She spits out the window before closing it, feeling slightly sick to her stomach. By now it's her turn to turn onto the runway.

Unlocking the inboard engines she lowers the flaps slightly, quickly glances at the controls, and eases the bomber onto the runway. Taking her hands off the controls for only a moment she takes the Bible out of her pocket and puts it on the copilot's seat in between the radio and the seat back.

"Fly with me..."

She finally grabs the four throttles and eases them forward, listening to the RPM of the engines run up as she starts to roll down the runway.

Her takeoff run is shorter than the other bombers, and she only uses half of the runway before the large wheels leave the tarmac.

Two minutes after taking off Hazel hears the throaty growl of the three witches assigned to escort her, and looks out her window to find Shirley directly above her, mere feet from the bullet resistant glass.

{We've got you covered, let's go get 'em!}

"Thanks Shirley. I recommend you climb above me as we go over the flak belt. They'll be aiming for me, and I don't want you guys getting hit."

{Sure, but you let us know if you take any damage.}

"Will do. Ten minutes until we reach the front lines."

An eerie silence descends on the radio frequency, and it remains until the first black puff of flak explodes in front of Hazel's plane.

"Here comes the flak. Thirty minutes to target."

{Geena is telling me that enemy fighters are taking off as well.}

"Do I even want to know how many?"

{Don't worry about it, we'll deal with them.}

Another burst of flak explodes just under the right wing, peppering the aluminum skin of the bomber with hot shrapnel. A third shell explodes just above the tail and shears the tip of the rudder off, unbeknownst to Hazel. The incessant barrage of the harmless looking clouds continues for five minutes, then it suddenly ceases.

"Is… is it over?"

{No, it's only just begun. Here come the fighters, four miles at twelve, ten, and two o'clock high.}

Hazel strains to see the fighters, but can't locate any of them. "I've got nothing. I'm gonna do my thing, anything that flies within a quarter mile of me is getting shot up."

{What are you talking about?}

"I'm using my ability."

One of Hazel's eyes turns a dark red, and the black hex at the base of her skull extends down her spine, turning the flak jacket a charcoal black. All of the turrets on the b-24 spring to life as if manned by ghosts, and proceed to scan the skies with an unseen vigilance.

{Err… three miles, the center group is four witches.}

"Let me guess. They're coming straight for me."

{Of course! We'll deal with them if you can handle the planes.}

Hazel glances around, trying to locate the fighters. She spots a group of eight black specks to her left, and eight more to her right.

"I'll do what I can, but there's no guarantee I can hold them all off."

{two miles.}

Hazel reaches behind her seat and pulls out a M3 'grease gun', readying it in case any witches get right next to her window.

{One mile! Let's go!}

Shirley dives into the center of the witch formation, causing them to split off their head-on attack and take evasive action as the other two witches do the same. Seconds later Hazel's plane shudders from a burst of cannon fire from a fighter. A line of bullet holes stitches into the metal roof behind her seat, and the swarm of fighters are on her in seconds. The numerous turrets blaze away at the fighters and manage to down one in the initial pass, but the sheer amount of planes makes it impossible to fend them all off at once, and several times a line of holes is punched in the wing, or the tail, or a burst of cannon fire tears a baseball-sized hole in the aluminum.

"Shirley I could really use some help! There's too many of them! I'm getting torn to ribbons!"

{Can you make it to the target?!}

"I… I don't know… maybe?! For every plane that the turrets engage there's two more that shoot me up!"

{I'll do what I can!}

Another fighter gets past the defenses and lets loose a burst of cannon shells, shredding the #4 engine.

"I just lost an engine! The prop won't feather either!" Hazel yells, frantically cutting off any fuel flow to the destroyed engine.

{Hazel calm down! Take a breath, you've got this.}

Hazel does as instructed, breathing deeply, and the ball turret claims another plane, then the right waist turret claims another in quick succession. The ventral turret scores a third that narrowly misses colliding with the bomber, and the tail turret sends a fourth down in flames. The fighters all immediately dive for the deck as the disintegrating fireball starts to scream towards the earth, and the skies are peaceful for a moment.

"The fighters just bugged out!" Hazel cheers, relishing in her first victories.

{It's not over yet! The base flak belt is next! We've got to bug out as well. Good luck.}

The three witches leave the enemy witches to run and turn around, heading back towards Hanover, leaving Hazel all alone.

"Thanks Shirley. In case I don't make it back you can have my stuff. Make good use of it."

{Hey don't talk like that, you'll make it. This mission is a milk run. I'll see you back at base.}

Hazel grins, tightening the chin strap on her helmet. "A milk run, right. Whatever you say Lieutenant."

Hazel reaches over to the radio and turns it off. "I won't be needing you." Then without falter she grabs the Bible and puts it in her flight jacket. "But I will be needing you."

The skies turn into a turbulent mess of small black clouds and hot shrapnel in an instant, and Hazel sighs, keeping her eyes fixed on the airfield in the distance.

"One mission. Lord just let me survive one mission."

The flak gets thicker, and on several times through the next ten minutes Hazel hears a sound like gravel hitting a tin barn door as the plane lurches to one side or the other, evidence that the flak is getting progressively more accurate.

A piece of shrapnel shears off the left waist gun, and it falls to the earth below, leaving a large gap in the protective envelope of the bomber. But Hazel ignores the flak and throttles up her three remaining engines, putting the plane in an ever so slight dive.

"Almost there…"

* * *

Another five agonizing minutes and she's nearly over the airfield. She opens the bomb bay doors, anxiously watching her target. Down on the ground she can see what looks like ants running towards the trees on the side of the runway. She's low enough that even the automatic anti-aircraft guns are desperately trying to swat her out of the sky.

Finally, she's over the airfield.

"Special delivery, airmail!" She cheers, flipping the switch that opens the two large containers full of propaganda leaflets in the bomb bays. Thousands of small leaflets fall towards the ground, and spread all over the base as she pulls up and climbs away from the base. The plane suddenly lurches upward and receives another peppering of shrapnel as a flak shell explodes beneath the plane.

Hazel grits her teeth and flips the toggle switch for the bomb bay doors while turning back towards Hanover, making a gentle right bank to avoid giving the flak gunners a large target.

Then, just as suddenly as the flak started, it stops.

"Not again!" Hazel groans, looking around frantically for the incoming fighters.

She spots four witches climbing up from the airbase, and turns quickly to get oriented towards Hanover, firewalling the engines in a futile attempt to escape them while all the guns on the Liberator turn to bear. She lays the M3 'grease gun' from earlier across her lap and pulls her Bible out of her jacket briefly to kiss it.

"I had a good run."

The witches close in quickly, breaking into two groups just before they get within firing range, and a few seconds later the numerous .50 caliber machine guns in the B-24 sing out a last act of defiance before running out of ammunition. The only working guns left on the plane are a .50 caliber AN/M2 in the nose and the .45 caliber SMG in Hazel's lap, and Hazel fully intends on using the latter.

One group approaches from 6 o'clock low, while the other group pulls up alongside the battered plane, only to be driven off when Hazel slides her window open and unloads the magazine in their direction.

Almost mechanically Hazel drops the empty magazine out of the weapon and grabs a full one from behind her seat before slamming it in and waiting for the witches to approach again.

"Come on! I've trained for this shit for two years!"

Hazel's gung-ho attitude completely evaporates after the sting of cold metal makes itself present on the back of her neck.

"Don't try anything stupid. No sudden movement." A voice warns from behind. "Put the gun on safe and hand it here."

Hazel adjusts her hold on the SMG and folds the dust cover down before holding it out to one side for the witch to take it. It's promptly taken from her, and the gun aimed at her neck is pulled away, if only slightly. "Where's your crew?"

"You're looking at her. I'm the only person on this plane other than you."

The gun is once again jammed against her neck. "Bullshit. I'm going to ask again, where's your crew?"

"I'm a neuroi hybrid. I don't need a crew."

"...You're going to land at the base, and if you try anything I won't hesitate to shoot you."

"Understood. Tell your comrades to get off my wing and I'll start my turn."

"Nao, Takami, give us some space. We're turning to the base."

The woman listens for a second. "Okay person, you can begin your turn, _slowly_."

Hazel starts gently banking to the right, ignoring the slight shaking in the rudder pedals. "The name's Eclipse, and yours?"

"Hauptmann Erica Hartmann."

Hazel cuts her remaining outboard engine and uses the last two, lining up on the runway while dropping her landing gear.

"Well Erica, you might want to hold onto something. This might be a bit rough."

Below the plane the ball turret swivels around and retracts into the fuselage, completing the landing preparation.

"How many times have you landed a wounded bomber?" Erica asks nervously.

"More than the amount of combat missions I've flown." Hazel replies calmly, watching the runway get closer.

"And how many combat missions have you flown?"

"Counting this one? One."

The end of the runway disappears under the nose, and the tires screech when they hit the tarmac. Before the plane stops it's surrounded by armed soldiers, and Hazel turns onto the grass before cutting fuel to the engines.

"...so what now? You gonna put me in a POW camp?" Hazel asks, still holding onto the controls.

"First I'm going to ask you. Do you really believe in what you're fighting for?"

Hazel takes off her helmet and headset. "No. No I don't. I fight because if I don't then my father and my sister will be arrested and killed." Hazel grits her teeth, taking off the heavy flak jacket.

Only now does Hazel turn to face Erica, and the blonde gasps at her heterochromatic eyes. One brown, the other crimson.

"What's your next question?"

"Erm… I was going to ask if you wanted to join us but after what you said I don't think that's an option. Instead I need you to wait here until we can get a casket loaded into your plane."

Hazel raises an eyebrow.

"The body is one of your units witches. Your commander will be happy to have her back."

"Err… okay… how long will this take?"

"Half an hour at most. Stay inside the plane, don't try any stupid things."

"I really need to do a walk around before I even think of taking off…" Hazel mumbles shyly.

"...Okay. Stay within twenty feet of the plane or the guards will shoot."

"Understood."

Erica walks out of the cabin and grabs her striker unit before jumping into the bomb bay. Hazel stands up and ducks down into the nose, eyeing the still-loaded AN/M2 thoughtfully before shaking her head and climbing outside through the wheel well.

"Heh… never thought I'd feel that again, I'd kiss the dirt if it wasn't enemy soil." She muses, crawling out from under the plane and standing up. The guards stiffen and aim at her when she looks their direction, but she turns back to the plane and starts walking towards the tail, looking at all the damage sustained.

"Good thing I'm not trying to count bullet holes." She mumbles, looking at a hole in the wing where a flak shell passed through without exploding.

The fuselage has holes big enough for Hazel to stick her fist into, and the tail is missing a fairly large chunk out of the right rudder, as well as a large hole in the elevator.

Circling around to the other side the situation is similar, big holes in the fuselage and wing, with the #4 engine having a gigantic hole in it, big enough that when Hazel stands beneath it she can see daylight through the opening.

"Yep. That engine's done."

After concluding her walk around the plane she sits down in front of the plane under the nose and pulls out the pack of cigarettes from earlier.

"..."

"I'll trade you for a beer."

Hazel looks around, startled at the voice, and finds a witch standing about five feet from her. The short-haired blonde wears an old Luftwaffe uniform, with an iron cross hanging on her neck.

"...you got a deal. They don't allow us beer back at base. Not even when we have leave."

Hazel hands the pack of cigarettes to the woman, and receives a bottle of unmarked beer in return. "They don't let us have it here either, so if anyone asks you didn't get it from me. My name is Krupinski." She says with a wink.

"Mine is Eclipse. I recommend you bounce on outta here before the guards start asking questions. Thanks for the beer." Hazel pops the top off the brown bottle and takes a swig as Krupinski walks off. "Ugh, this beer tastes like piss."

Five minutes after Krupinski leaves a Neuroi witch approaches.

"You must be my replacement."

Hazel straightens up to look at the humanoid. "Depends, were you the neuroi witch that defected?"

"I was. I have never seen a human like you before however."

"That's because I'm not fully human. I'm part Neuroi too, hence why I got this crazy suicide mission."

"Get used to it, Barkhorn sent me on nothing but suicide missions, that's why I left."

"Fantastic. Maybe I'll get shot in the foot during a flight and I'll be able to go home."

"I wouldn't count on it. I'm Sorya by the way."

Hazel stands up, brushing the dirt off her backside. "Nice to meet you Sorya. I'm Eclipse."

"You'd do well to defect as well. They treat us much better here."

"I would Sorya… but I've got a family that if I defect they'll be rounded up and killed. I'm pushing my luck as it is now."

Sorya turns away. "I see. Well, good luck in your endeavors. Pray that we don't meet in the skies, because you will not survive."

"We shall see. Good luck, happy hunting."

The witch slowly moves away without acknowledging, and Hazel watches a truck roll up with six people in the back.

The truck stops beside the plane, and the tailgate is dropped, revealing a casket in the floor.

"Get it loaded in the cabin. It's the most structurally sound right now." Hazel tells them while they pile out and lift the casket. The men slowly, respectfully, carry the casket over to the bomber, lift it up into the bomb bay, and carry it into the cabin, where they set it down behind Hazel's seat and quickly vacate the plane.

"Eclipse, I need you to give this to your commander. It contains her items, as well as a consolation gift." Erica hands a small box to Hazel as a crate is also loaded into the plane. "That's her striker unit."

"I think I can get one last flight out of this baby, but if I take any more damage I don't know if she'll hold up. Can you escort me as far as the front lines? I don't think the engines will-" Hazel asks, holding the box under one arm.

"Yes. Now let's get you back." Erica interdicts, waving her towards the bomber.

Hazel nods and heads towards the nose, entering via the wheel well and climbing up into the cabin before donning the flak vest and headset.

"Okay sweetheart, start right up for me, we'll do one more short flight and I won't ask anymore of you." Hazel sweet talks the plane while she starts to turn the first engine. Then with a bit more smoke than usual the engine roars to life.

"That's it! Two more, come on honey." Hazel pats the console reassuringly and starts the second engine, and finally the third.

The soldiers move out of the way as she starts taxiing, and though the engines sputter a couple times they hold strong, and she rolls down the taxiway as hundreds of pilots, witches, and soldiers gawk.

Out of all of them though, there's one that sticks out. A witch with short white hair. She stands by the end of the taxiway, an appalled expression on her face as if asking ' _you're really going to take off and fly that thing? You're crazy!'_. Hazel puts her best smile on and salutes the witch as she rolls past, leaving the witch even more confused than before.

Slowly, Hazel turns onto the runway and stops for a second, lowering her flaps slightly and doing one last systems check.

"Alright… let's do this."

Grabbing the throttles she takes one more deep breath before easing them forward, starting shakily down the runway. The unbalance of thrust requires her to rely heavily on the rudder, and she ignores the heavy vibrations in the rudder pedals as the plane starts to get light on the landing gear. The trees at the end of the runway start getting uncomfortably close by the time she feels the wheels leave the tarmac. The lumbering, battered bomber clears the treetops by a matter of feet, and Hazel slightly relaxes, reaching over to turn on the radio. The channel is silent at first, but a very familiar, very tired sounding voice eventually breaks the silence.

{Hazel… if you're out there... please respond.}

"Shirley? Shirley!"

{H-Hazel?! Where are you?! Are you okay?!}

"I'm down low, I'm heading towards home but I'm probably going to lose another engine here pretty soon! I need you to trust me here. I got redirected when a witch got into the plane, I've got a casket in here with me right now and a witch on either wing so I don't get blasted out of the sky. Please, _please_ just trust me on this."

The silence that follows is agonizing, and Hazel mentally prepares herself for the response.

{Hazel… you know what Barkhorn is going to do right?}

"Yeah… if I'm not shot on the spot I'll be locked up. Taking the casket home is the right thing to do, and that's what I'm doing."

{...I'm waiting at the front lines. Hurry up.}

"I'm trying, but this thing is being held together by a few stray wires and God's will alone at this point."

Hazel waits for a response, but none comes. The radio remains silent for the remainder of the flight to the front lines, and to Hazel the silence is almost as unnerving as the complete lack of anti-aircraft fire. Hazel climbs up to 5,000 feet, and when she starts cruising she marvels at the beautiful countryside below, until a loud bang and a light on her left wing brings her attention to the #1 engine, which is a ball of flame.

Frantically, Hazel cuts fuel to the engine, turns the magnetos off, and activates the fire extinguishers, watching the flames slowly die down and eventually snuff out, leaving the engine trailing black smoke.

"Almost home, just a little further." Hazel mumbles nervously, looking for Shirley in the skies ahead.

Erica crosses in front of Hazel, waves a goodbye, and goes vertical, pulling an immelman to get turned around. She's gone in seconds, and Hazel watches another witch fly in from 11 o'clock.

{Woah, you weren't kidding! How are you still flying?!} Shirley yells over the radio, flying around the perforated bomber.

"I don't know, just get me the fastest route back to base. This thing doesn't fly very well on hopes and dreams, and I'm starting to run low on fuel." Hazel snarks back, warily eyeing the fuel gauges.

{...There's MP's waiting for you back at base…}

"Well then they better hope this landing goes the way I want it to."

* * *

After twenty minutes of agonizing silence and a constant battle against the plane Hazel is finally lined up with the runway. Shirley flies behind her, watching to make sure that everything deploys properly.

{You're lookin good Hazel. Are you going to lower your flaps?}

"Ehh… they should be already lowered. I'll drop them manually."

Hazel grabs a hand pump that's fixed beside her seat and starts furiously pumping it, trying to lower the flaps.

{There you go, they're coming down.}

The shaking in the rudder pedals becomes more intense as the flaps lower, and Hazel has to fight even harder to keep the plane steady.

"Shirley, is there something wrong with my rudder? Aside from being shot up."

{Well, your intact rudder is just flapping in the breeze.}

"Oh, fantastic. I'm dropping my landing gear, please let me know if something isn't working."

Hazel flips the switch to lower the landing gear, and listens for the sound of the landing gear dropping.

{Nope, nothing happened.}

"...Well, I guess I get to belly it in. Tell 'em to clear the grass." Hazel sighs out, her voice filled with dread. She reaches down by her left ankle and pulls a flare gun from a holster, loading a red flare before sliding the window open and firing it high into the sky.

Down on the ground soldiers get an ambulance and several fire trucks ready, preparing for the crash landing should things go catastrophically wrong. Some pilots and witches look on, some of them hoping that the bomber will catch fire and explode on landing.

Hazel brings the wounded plane in barely above stall speed, muttering a prayer mere seconds before the belly of the Liberator touches the grass and slowly skids to a stop, eventually tilting over to rest on one wing when it comes to a stop.

Hazel lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and turns off the magneto's to the remaining engines, along with cutting the fuel flow and activating the fire extinguishers as a precaution.

She slumps against the window and looks to the sky. "Okay guardian angel, I'm done pushing my luck for today."

The growl of Merlin magic engines can be heard momentarily before Shirley ditches them and sprints towards the bomber. "Hazel!"

Hazel opens the window again and sticks her arm out. "I'm alive! Good God almighty I'm alive!" She cheers, now ecstatic.

Shirley runs around to the left waist station and climbs in, scrambling up the plane until she reaches the cabin, nearly tripping over the casket.

"Let's get her out of here. We can celebrate later." Hazel motions towards the casket with the small box under her arm and her flak helmet on her head.

Shirley nods and gently takes one end of the casket while Hazel takes the other, and they both slowly carry it through the bomber, passing it through the left waist station to four medics.

"I need to go talk to Barkhorn." Hazel snaps, her attitude still serious.

"Then go get it done before the MP's show up."

Hazel nods and swiftly climbs out of the wrecked bomber, thumbing a ride from a passing jeep to the operations tower.

Once inside the operations tower she raps heavily on Barkhorn's door.

"Enter."

Hazel opens the door, striding in and letting it swing closed behind her.

The first thing she does is walk up to the desk and place the box on it, only then does she salute, but it's brief and snappy.

"Captain, the mission was completed. However, my plane is a complete write-off."

Barkhorn hums an acknowledgment, looking at the box. "And what is this?"

"That is one of two items I was sent home with after being forcefully redirected to land at the enemy base."

Barkhorn visibly stiffens. "And what was the other item?"

"A casket containing the body of one of our fallen witches, ma'am."

Barkhorn glares up at Hazel. "I see. You are hereby given barracks arrest until your new plane arrives."

"B-but ma'am, requesting some time on the town."

Barkhorn stands up, still glaring at her. "Denied. You are a Neuroi, and Neuroi don't leave the base unless they're on mission."

Hazel grinds her teeth. "Is that why you gave me that bullshit of a suicide mission?! Just because I'm _part_ Neuroi?!"

"Watch your tone Sergeant. That was not a suicide mission, as evident by your presence here."

"Bullshit! You look at that plane out there and tell me that wasn't a suicide mission! There were _dozens_ of witches here at base sitting on their asses and you sent _three_ with me only one way! The only reason I'm here is because the commanding officer of the enemy wing valued that casket as much as we do! All of that damage is from the flight over there! I didn't even get shot at on the way back because there was a witch on my wing the entire goddamn time!" Hazel bristles, gesturing furiously at the bomber outside. "You sent me on that mission _specifically_ to get me killed!"

"Alright! I admit it! You're an abomination and I sent you with hopes that I'd never have to deal with you again! Happy?! After what the Neuroi did to Chris I can't stand seeing them!"

Hazel sighs out her nose, taking off her helmet. "So that's it huh? You're trying to kill me off for something that happened to you during the Neuroi war?"

Trude immediately realizes her mistake and scowls even harder at Hazel. "I don't have to answer you. Get out of my sight."

Hazel snaps a bad salute. "Ja Kommandant." She pivots on one foot and storms out, straight into the cuffs of the base MP's.

"Alright boys, no need to be pushy, just tell me where to go."

After being stripped of the flak vest and helmet Hazel is thrown into a dark jail cell. There's almost an inch of water on the floor, and the only light comes from a small barred window on the wall opposite of the door. The small metal bed is the only escape from the water in the floor, and Hazel stares up at the ceiling, her red eye glowing in the low-light conditions.

* * *

Meanwhile, across the base Trude stands before the wooden casket inside a small building. The medics inside notice her standing by the casket and clear out, leaving her to mourn.

As soon as the two were alone, Trude places her hands on the cover of the casket and slowly removes it. She makes a sad frown as soon as the face of her comrade was seen.  
Despite her clothes being stained with blood and her hands on her chest, Janet's face has a look of peace on it.  
"Wilkes...you did well." Smiles Trude sadly as she lifts Janet's body in a princess carry fashion and places it gently on the operating table,  
Next to the body was a fresh Brittanian uniform that has Janet's rank with one of the nation's many badges for those who died in the line of duty.  
As Trude starts to carefully remove Janet's clothes, she clenches her teeth when she sees the bullet wounds after fully unbuttoning Janet's jacket and shirt.  
She drops to her knees when she notices the locket with her picture on it after she tries to remove the jacket and the small brass watch fell out of Janet's hands  
"I...I didn't know...Why...Why am I always such a fool!?"

"Because you were focused on your job." Trude whips her head around to find Minna standing in the doorway. "You aren't a fool, though I question some of the missions you've sent the Neuroi on. They seem unnecessarily dangerous, and it would be a shame to lose them considering their skills."

Minna crosses the room to Trude, halting by the foot of the operating table. "I'm sorry for your loss…"

"She was so good at taking photos… I should have given her escorts… I should have been there… it was Erica."

Trude takes a small damp sponge and starts cleaning the blood off Janet's corpse, her eyes watering up as she does so. "How could I be so dense…? She was always so flirty when she wasn't on mission. She didn't flirt with anyone else. It was so blatantly obvious and I didn't see she liked me." She starts to sob, dabbing at the bullet holes with the sponge while Minna walks up to her and holds her, rubbing her back. "Erica was just doing what she was supposed to do. She didn't know."

Trude drops the sponge and holds onto Minna, sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder.

"Why did it have to go this way? After all those years...?"


	3. Chapter 2 (Backstory)

Hey y'all, it's me Hazel.

Figured I should cover what's happened lately in the past few years, not like I've got anything better to do in this cell anyways.

In 1945 the combined effort of all the world's witches forced the Neuroi into a stalemate as the 'Humanoid-type' became increasingly common. These new Neuroi were incredibly intelligent and many learned our language simply by listening. They got tired of being hunted by the witches and tried a peaceful solution. It was simple from what I was told, the humanoid-type Neuroi fought alongside the witches and helped destroy their more violent counterparts, but once the enemy was defeated, and a formal peace deal was struck with the Neuroi that left the big question: now what are we going to do with them?

Well, the western powers like Liberion, Gallia, and Britannia started treating them like equipment. They couldn't go anywhere or do anything without a witch there with them. They had practically no rights other than the right to serve in the military. Except it wasn't a right, it was a requirement. Hence why I'm stuck in this predicament, I'm required by the Liberion government to serve in the military, and so is my sister, though she's still in training.

The eastern powers like Suomis and Orussia however, they wanted to treat the Neuroi like regular people. No military service required, though they get paid handsomely for fighting. I'd defect in a heartbeat if my family wouldn't be in danger.

Anyways, Karlsland was initially following the western ideology. However, there were enough people who wanted to treat the Neuroi like people that they threatened a civil war, and they kept annoying the dickens out of the government by rioting and performing terrorist attacks, including trying to sabotage bridges leading into Berlin.

After a year the Karlsland government gave them a choice, either they could split Karlsland at Berlin, or other nation's militaries like Liberion would get involved.

The anarchists took the prior option, and within months they had their own standing military and government.

But just getting what they wanted is never enough is it? No, they wanted West Karlsland to follow their ideology, so after receiving backing from Orussia they declared war on them. I'm honestly glad I was still in training at that time, because the fighting was sluggish and no ground was really gained by either side. The biggest amounts of casualties came from that short period, lasting only four months. Since then it's essentially just been like two young kids seeing who can slap each other harder before the other gets pissed and yells for mom.

Now, in early summer of 1947, I'm stuck in a jail cell because my commander hates me, simply because I'm part Neuroi. She hasn't taken the chance to learn about me yet, so that's the only logical explanation.

But yeah, obviously there's some witches in the western militaries that don't agree with the ideology. Those witches usually defect and fight for the east.

That...pretty much covers it. Shirley should be around with dinner any time now, so I'll catch you later!


	4. Chapter 2: Out of the frying pan

**[A/N]: Terribly sorry for the long wait everyone. It's with great regret that I say I most likely won't be uploading for a while. Life has gotten in the way, and obviously that comes first. Having said that I'll write whenever possible.**

 **If you enjoy this chapter, please leave a review stating what you like about it, and what you want to see in the future** **.**

* * *

It's been two weeks since Hazel's first mission, and her imprisonment. Her eyes have reverted to normal, though the line of hexagons down her spine remains, acting like another sense, much like echolocation. She sits on the metal bunk and stares out the window at the night sky.

The door is opened with a rattling of keys and a squeal of rusty hinges, a light is shined in her eyes, followed by a male voice. "On your feet. Hands up, face the wall."

Hazel complies, facing away from the door while the guards restrain her hands. She's marched out into the hall and blindfolded, though she still has a general idea of where she is thanks to her new sense.

She's marched outside and loaded into a jeep before being driven to the operations tower, where she's herded inside and roughly shoved into a small room before the door is closed behind her. She taps her foot on the floor repeatedly to make noise so she can 'see' where she's going and manages to locate a chair in the center of the room, sitting in it before reclining and kicking her feet up on the table. Several minutes later the door is opened, and someone enters, sitting across the table from her.

"You are Sergeant Hazel Ellerby, correct?"

Hazel takes her feet off the table and lets the chair fall forward. "Yes ma'am."

"Can you describe the mission after which you were detained?"

"I was sent to drop propaganda over the enemy airbase. I had three witch escorts, but they only accompanied me on the way to the target, after we encountered the base flak belt they turned towards home as per their orders. Leaving myself -a lone bomber- to fend for myself over the enemy airfield. I was boarded and redirected to land at their airbase, during such time I was told I would be sent back with a casket, and I was promptly escorted back to the front lines by two hostile witches."

There's a moment of silence, only broken by the frantic scribbling of a pencil on paper.

"Why did you allow yourself to be redirected?"

"Respectfully ma'am, when someone has the muzzle of a MG42 stuck against the back of your head, you do what they say and nothing else."

"Very true… well, I see no further need for questions. Your new aircraft is here, and I believe it's time for you to earn your dinner."

"Yes ma'am. Just let me get dressed in a clean uniform and I'll be ready for the briefing."

Hazel can hear and 'see' the woman get up, walk around the table, and stop behind her. Seconds later the blindfold is removed, and she squints, blinking her eyes multiple times to acclimate to the sudden light while the woman removes the handcuffs.

"I am Minna, I'll be your new base commander in a couple days."

Once Hazel's hands are free she turns around and salutes Minna. "It's an honor to meet you ma'am. I remember hearing your singing a few times over the radio. Your singing voice is beautiful."

Minna blushes slightly. "Thank you. Now, your re-familiarization period lasts until midnight. It is currently twenty hundred hours."

Hazel nods and jogs out, heading across the runway to the barracks, which are unusually empty.

"Hello Eclipse, glad to see you finally out from behind bars."

Hazel jumps slightly at the voice, but waves to the Neuroi witch as she walks by. "Hello Rose. Where is everyone?"

"Barkhorn sent them on one last mission before Minna takes over. They're directly attacking the enemy airbase."

Halfway through pulling off her blouse Hazel stops and stares at Rose. "Please tell me they have support."

"They do not. I believe the intent was to thin our numbers before Minna could properly utilize us."

Hazel quickly finishes undressing and starts frantically putting on her flight equipment, minus the electrically heated suit. "Does Minna know about this?!"

"I do not believe so. If she does then she might be as bad as Barkhorn."

Hazel grabs her flight jacket and straps her parachute on before jogging out.

She's directed towards one of the more decrepit looking hangars on the far end of the airbase, given a ride reluctantly by a mail courier.

"Thanks fella!" She chirps, jumping out of the jeep and jogging into the dark hangar before freezing in her tracks.

In the hangar sits a black P-61 'black widow', with ' _Ellerby'_ painted neatly in small lettering on the fuselage by the pilot's canopy. A feral grin spreads across her face and she sprints forward, climbing up onto the large heavy fighter and swinging the canopy open.

It's a welcome distraction from worrying about the Neuroi Witches, and she re-acclimates herself with the fighter.

In the two years of her training Hazel spent an entire year learning to fly the P-61 before being forcefully moved to the P-47, and then the B-24. The ignorance of the commanding officer in training meant that she wasn't being used to her full potential in a bomber. Her night vision far surpassed the other night fighter candidates, and since she could handle the other systems in the plane like the radar using her ability she could hone in on a target faster than the other candidates.

However, at the current time, the engines are being overhauled. Meaning she isn't able to fly.

That makes all the difference when just half an hour before midnight the base air raid sirens start their two-toned howl. Witches sprint towards their striker units, most still in their underwear, and pilots frantically fuel up, trying not to turn the taxiway into a gigantic traffic jam as they taxi and take off.

As asked of her in basic, when the base is under attack and Hazel can't take off she sprints to the nearest AAA emplacement, offering any help they need. She watches the Witches take off vertically, filling the air with the growl of their magic engines before they form up and fly off towards the Divide. After most of the available planes have taken off the base is left eerily quiet, and the remaining five Neuroi Witches sit on the runway, ready to fly up to challenge the enemy should they venture too close to the airfield.

They don't have to wait long, because five minutes later the spotlights light up the night sky, illuminating the underbelly of four East Karlsland BF-109 G-10's.

Simultaneously all the AAA emplacements open fire on the approaching fighters. Hazel tries to warn them of what they don't see, but the cacophony is deafening.

The BF-109's are actually giving chase to Hex, who weaves erratically, trying to avoid the fire of both the fighters and the passing flak shells. Her small form is only visible due to the red glow she gives off, and at the altitude she's at Hazel doesn't really blame the gunners for not seeing Hex.

The Neuroi Witch successfully evades the constant attacks from the enemy fighters long enough to make two wide loops over the airfield, then everything changes.

A BF-109 climbs high above the action and dives on her, its guns spitting a stream of tracers that light up the night. Hex almost immediately halts her forward momentum to avoid the cannon shells, but the pilot either gets desperate or makes a crucial error. The aircraft slams into Hex, the prop tearing her lower half to pieces before Hex bounces off the fuselage and plummets towards the ground seemingly without control, her arms flailing as she falls ten thousand feet before slamming into the ground, leaving a gigantic crater.

Hazel immediately drops what she's doing and sprints towards the smoking crater. The couple hundred yards are covered quickly, and she jumps into the crater without regard for her own safety, nearly landing on the Neuroi.

"Hex! Hex look at me!"

"Hazel, good to see you. I appear to have suffered propulsion and core damage...Guess it ain't my lucky day" Jokes Hex with what sounds like rough breathing

Hazel drops to her knees beside the humanoid, her hands hovering over the latter in indecision. "Can you move?"

"Moving is ill-advised, as any movement may fully fracture my core, resulting in death. Just leave me be...I'll cover you."

No sooner are those words spoken than a BF-109 strafes the crater. Hazel throws herself over Hex as cannon shells shower her in mud, but miss.

"We need to move somewhere safe." Hazel huffs, grabbing Hex under the arms to drag her.

The moment she lifts Hex up however, a crack is heard and the Neuroi goes rigid

"...Hex?"

"...Hazel..it was nice kno-" Hex's body turns into countless white shards that soon start to vanish in thin air.

Hazel feebly grabs at the shards, but finds herself unable to grab any.

"Hex… no…"

The fragments of the Neuroi witch float off with the breeze as the sirens continue to howl. She starts tearing up before a M1919A3 .30 caliber machine gun is thrust into her hands.

"Off your knees and into the fight Sergeant! You can mourn her later!"

Hazel looks up at the lip of the crater where a Fuso Major stands, a sword on her back and a type 99 machine gun in her hands.  
"Yes ma'am!" Hazel groans, standing up and wiping the tears from her eyes.

Hazel runs to a slit trench and jumps in it, bracing the machine gun against the sandbags before firing at any planes that get close enough for her to reliably hit.

As soon as the belt runs dry Hazel starts looking for other opportunities to get back at the enemy fighters, and finds one not far down the airfield; a M45 quadruple mount for .50 caliber M2 machine guns. The ground around it is chewed up, and the plexiglass on the front is spattered with blood, not a good sign given that the same mount was firing minutes earlier.

Dropping the empty M1919 Hazel climbs out of the trench and sprints over to the mount, and finds that the previous operator is no more, his upper torso vaguely resembling hamburger.

Keeping her wits about her she reloads the four M2's, her right eye turning crimson as she lays her hand against the mount once she's finished.

The mount almost immediately whirs into action before she steps back. The same BF-109 from earlier flies a low pass over the airfield and the guns turn to track it for a second before all four guns chatter their reply, the incendiary rounds set fire to the fuel tanks and it explodes midair, slinging flaming shrapnel down the length of the runway.

A second BF-109 that was following the first pulls up and climbs away from the airbase, evading the stream of bullets from the M45 mount.

While the gun mount continues to fire at the BF-109 another plane flies in low from the opposite direction, and Hazel notices it just in time to dive out of the way before it completely eviscerates the gun mount in a hail of cannon shells.

When it screams overhead though, Hazel gawks at it while it ascends and circles her. The plane looks reminiscent of a Fuso J7W intercept fighter, but it's bigger, has a Karlsland-style canopy, and the engine has more air intakes. It circles twice, a pair of red eyes staring through the canopy before it turns away, flying back towards The Divide.

Then, all goes quiet spare the sirens. In the distance flak guns blaze away at the sky, sounding like a rolling thunder clap that doesn't end.

Finally, twenty minutes after the mysterious plane flew off, the siren stops.

"It's over…" Hazel sits down on some toppled sandbags, the lack of adrenaline making her feel completely exhausted. Without any further thought she lays back and falls asleep.

* * *

"Hazel, get up."

Hazel awakens to someone shaking her shoulder, and begrudgingly she sits up, rubbing her eyes. Shirley and Lucchini both stand over her.

"Up and at 'em Hazel. Minna wants you in her office. Get going, we've been looking for you for the last ten minutes."

"...Yes ma'am." Hazel mumbles sleepily, slowly getting to her feet and trudging off towards the operations tower.

The two watch her stumble away, and once she's out of earshot Shirley looks at the destroyed gun mount a few yards away. "I think I'm going to work on her plane. She couldn't get into the air last night because someone pulled apart her engines."

"Eh? But Shirley, she's a Neuroi."

"She's a human too though, so what does it matter?!" Shirley hisses back, taking Lucchini aback.

Without another word Shirley walks off towards the hangar containing Hazel's P-61, hell bent on getting it in running order.

"You called for me commander?" Hazel asks as she enters Minna's office.

"Yes I did. I have some things to discuss with you. Please, sit."

"Erm… ma'am as a Neuroi in the Liberion Air Force I'm required to stand in the presence of an officer." Hazel shyly reports, shifting her weight on her feet.

"I'm well aware of the requirements placed on you. Please sit down. That's an order."

"Yes ma'am." Hazel responds quickly, moving to the chair and occupying it.

Minna looks her over before sighing. "You knew some of the Neuroi Witches didn't you? You must have."

"Yes ma'am… I knew two."

"...I'm sorry. None of them made it back."

At that exact moment something inside Hazel breaks. The Neuroi Witches were the only people on base that treated her like she belonged, and now she'd just lost them all in a single night.

"I… I see…" She mumbles, trying her best to avoid tearing up and breaking down.

"As such it wouldn't make sense to have you living in the Neuroi barracks. You'll be moving to the Witch barracks, there's a blackout room so you can remain acclimated to the dark. Get your stuff packed and you're welcome to anything else in the Neuroi barracks… Lord knows they won't be needing it."

Hazel nods slowly. "Is that all ma'am?"

"I've also got this for you." Minna opens a drawer and retrieves a wooden case, sliding it across the desk. "I know that there will likely be some distaste among the barracks when you move in, so please keep that loaded and on your person at all times starting now."

Hazel opens the lid to find a M1911A1 inside, along with two loaded magazines.

"Understood."

Hazel removes the pistol from the case and loads it before tucking it in her waistband and stuffing the second magazine in her pocket.

"You're dismissed."

Hazel stands up and quickly salutes Minna before striding out the door, determined to get somewhere private before she breaks down crying. Once out of the operations tower she breaks into a dead sprint, her legs carrying her as fast as she dares across the runway to the Neuroi barracks.

Inside the barracks twenty five of the thirty bunks are made, the last five belong to Rose and the four other Neuroi that left in a hurry to intercept the planes chasing Hex. Hazel heads straight to her bunk and sits down on it, letting the tears roll as she sobs.

After an hour she's done crying, the sadness replaced with a simple empty feeling. Her movements are almost robotic while she packs up her stuff into her bag and sorts through the belongings of the Neuroi Witches, finding several souvenirs from aircraft and witches they'd taken down. In Rose's footlocker she finds a sawed-down M1918 BAR, and puts it in with her belongings.

She's just shouldering the bag when a knock at the door draws her attention to a blonde witch standing there with a scowl. "Are you ready yet? I don't have all day!"

"Yes ma'am." Is all Hazel says as she lifts the BAR in her right hand by the middle and follows the witch out, allowing herself to be led across the airfield to the witch barracks. The blonde remains quiet the entire time, only speaking once they reach a room on the second story, at the end of the hall.

"This is your room. Ensure that it is neat."

With that, she walks down the hall, leaving Hazel alone in the hallway. Almost mechanically she enters the dark room and shuts the door behind her, noting the blacked-out windows and the complete lack of any lightbulbs in the fixtures. Her eyes eventually adjust to the darkness, allowing her to move around without having to worry about bumping into things.

She transfers all her uniforms and clothes to the dresser and flops down on the bed, staring at the ceiling until she closes her eyes and forces herself to fall asleep.

* * *

Her rest only seems like a minute before she's shaken awake by Shirley. The ginger has grease all over her, but wears a smile on her face. "Good morning Sergeant. You're plane is ready, and your patrol route is right here." She hands a map to the groggy hybrid, who takes it and sits up. "Thanks Shirley… what time is it?"

"It's almost twenty hundred hours. Time for you to eat and get ready to fly."

"...Alright. Uhh… give me a minute, I'll be right out."

Shirley leaves and closes the door while Hazel gets up and changes her flight suit, putting her parachute back on before she stuffs the pistol, map, and bible inside her jacket.

The final thing she grabs is a flight cap, then she combs her hair and walks out, meeting Shirley in the hall.

"You alright…? You seem… off." Shirley asks as they walk down the hall.

Hazel takes a deep breath and hangs her head. "...No, I'm not alright. I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, just know that if you need someone to talk to-"

"Not needed, thanks." Hazel snaps as she picks up the pace, leaving Shirley behind.

In the mess hall Hazel grabs a small plate of food and finds a spot far away from anyone else, in the corner by the door. She ignores the comments thrown her way and quickly eats her food, muttering a prayer before practically throwing table manners out the window in favor of eating and getting away from the other pilots as fast as possible.

Once her plate is empty she deposits it with the KP crew and makes a beeline for the door, avoiding the table where Trude sits.

She catches a ride down to the hangar containing her P-61 and starts her inspection upon arrival, checking first the engines, and then the control surfaces. After she's finally satisfied the startup isn't going to kill her she pushes the doors open, climbs in, and fastens herself in, patiently waiting for her time to start up.

* * *

At 2048 hours Shirley enters the hangar and climbs a ladder to stand beside Hazel's cockpit.

"I put the engines together myself and they're both tuned to run at a perfect mix for performance and range. I'll handle your mechanical stuff from here on out. Be safe."

Her sudden announcement catches Hazel off guard. "I… uh… thanks…"

"No problem! Let me cycle your props, I'll give you a thumbs up when you're clear to start."

Hazel watches the redhead in awe as she steps off the ladder, moving it to the wall of the hangar before approaching the port side engine and grabbing the large propeller blade, pushing it counterclockwise until it gets out of reach, and then grabbing the next blade, repeating the process a dozen times before changing to the other engine and doing the same process in a clockwise manner.

Finally Shirley returns to the nose of the aircraft and flashes Hazel a 'thumbs up', cuing her to start the engines.

After flipping a few switches Hazel watches the port side engine turn, emitting a whine before it finally catches, sputtering for a second before going back to slowly turning and whining.

"Oh come on darlin', I know you're cold but work with me here." Hazel mutters to herself, giving the thirsty engine a richer fuel mix while she watches it turn. A few revolutions later the engine sputters and roars to life. Hazel reaches up above her head and closes the canopy to help keep the noise down before repeating the startup process on the starboard engine. The fuel mixture is too rich at first, causing the engine to give a loud backfire after a few revolutions, but Hazel stubbornly adjusts the fuel mixture slightly and keeps the blades turning. Several revolutions more and the engine turns over, coughing smoke out the exhaust as Hazel raises the RPM.

Once satisfied that the engines are warm enough Hazel waves to Shirley, and in turn the redhead moves under the nose, pulling the chocks from the wheels before running back under the nose with the yellow-painted wooden blocks dragging on the ground behind her.

Having thrown the chocks to the wall, Shirley exits the hangar and waves Hazel forward, standing out of the way as the night fighter slowly rolls out of the hangar and turns onto the taxiway, the thrust from the engines nearly pushing her off her feet.

She turns around to find Barkhorn leaning against the hangar door, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. "What are you doing? You know the regulations, she's a Neuroi, and is to be treated like one."

"Yeah whatever. When is your court martial again?"

"Don't have one. Minna offered me a demotion in replacement, so I took that."

Shirley rolls her eyes and starts to enter the hangar to tidy up. "Of course you did. So what's your new rank?"

"If it were to transfer over to Liberion ranks I believe it's corporal."

Shirley stops in her tracks, glances at Barkhorn, and doubles over in laughter.

"What's so funny?!" Trude growls, clenching her fists at her sides.

"That means she outranks you!" Shirley squeaks out, clutching her sides while trying to compose herself.

"That doesn't mean anything. She can't order me around unless Minna gives her permission to, and she'd never do that."

Suddenly a runner jogs up to the pair, a white envelope is extended to Barkhorn, and the witch opens it. Shirley gets the chance to compose herself while Barkhorn reads the enclosed orders, re-reading it several times to ensure that what she's reading is true.

…

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

Shirley snickers and continues into the hangar. "Justice is served."

"Shut up Liberion. I'll still kick your ass in a race any day."

"Not for long you won't!" Shirley yells over her shoulder, grabbing a pair of wrenches off the hangar floor.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Don't worry about it!"

* * *

Two hours after taking off Hazel turns onto the third bearing of her patrol route, which takes her a half mile behind the front line inside East Karlsland.

"Come and get me…" Hazel chortles nervously to herself, cruising just above the thin layer of clouds at eight thousand feet.

The turret aft of the cockpit scans behind her, more as a way for Hazel to comfort herself than anything else. With all the radar on the aircraft the hybrid is confident that she'll know anything is coming long before it gets into firing range. Her red eye glows brighter for a second as she checks the radar for any disturbances, and upon confirming she's the only plane around Hazel allows her mind to wander, thinking of the strange J7W from the previous night.

' _I've never seen one like that before… maybe it's a prototype? No, that can't be it, Fuso is friendly to the West…. maybe the pilot defected and had it modified…? No that can't be it either, it was bigger than that one in joint training.'_

Frustrated, Hazel gives up on trying to figure out the plane and checks the radar once more, noting a small contact to her nine o'clock high, over West Karlsland.

' _A witch… I wonder…'_

Suddenly the hair on her arms stands on end, and she frantically looks over her right shoulder, desperately searching the night sky to her five o'clock high for a trio of contacts that suddenly pop up on her rear facing radar. Finding herself unable to visually identify the aircraft she pulls a 'Split-S', rolling inverted and pulling the stick into her gut to reverse direction to use the more specific forward facing radar.

Hazel levels out below the clouds in time to watch three black ME-262's overshoot, and upon noting the East Karlsland markings on them she turns towards Hanover, pushes the throttles an inch short of the firewall, and dives away, attempting to disappear from sight before the 262's can gain enough altitude to dive again.

The second she starts to dive away the anti-aircraft defenses open fire on her. Trails of tracers from automatic cannons streak skywards and bursts of high-caliber flak shells light up the clouds above her with flashes of orange and yellow. Searchlights are turned on and scan the skies relentlessly until one settles on the form of the Black Widow, and then the gunfire becomes more concentrated for several seconds before it ceases, and a stream of tracers screams by from a different direction, _above_.

Immediately following the green tracers Hazel detects a contact violating her half-mile protective bubble, and the turret on the P-61 swivels before firing a short burst from its four .50 caliber AN/M2's. The burst serves its purpose and drives off the witch before she can adjust her fire.

The flak starts up again, bracketing the heavy fighter with bursts of red hot shrapnel while it accelerates past the safe maximum speed, shuddering and shaking in the power dive towards the friendly side of Berlin. Hazel opens the airbrakes for a brief few seconds, and the plane decelerates quickly, avoiding a burst of AAA fire before the hybrid retracts the airbrakes and levels out, pushing the throttles forward another inch, breaking a small wire and activating Wartime Emergency Power.

The plane sluggishly accelerates briefly, but the speed is quickly bled off when the flak stops and a 262 swoops in from five o'clock high. Hazel cuts throttle, extends the airbrakes, and pulls a hard turn into the attack, forcing the jet to overshoot.

A second jet swoops in, and Hazel continues the turn, causing it to also overshoot before the third dives on her from behind.

Relying on training Hazel pulls another split-S, and finds herself at treetop level when she levels out. The last jet fails to pull out of the dive in time and smashes into the ground in a gigantic explosion.

Hazel orients towards Hanover again and pitches the nose up slightly, letting the heavy fighter claw for altitude while she scans the cloudy sky above her.

"Hanover, this is Eclipse! Requesting immediate assistance! I have two jets and a witch working me over and I'm at low altitude!"

The few seconds that the radio remains quiet tightens the knot of fear in Hazel's stomach, and the fear turns into anger when the response is finally transmitted.

{Eclipse you'll have to do what you can for now. We're mustering pilots to go help you, but they won't be airborne for another five minutes at least.}

"Five minutes?! I'll be dead in two!"

{Do what you can, we're working as fast as possible.}

Hazel angrily smashes her fist against the canopy. "God damn it! Why does this shit always happen to me?! I give it my all and I just get left to the wolves!"

No sooner is she finished with her rant than the flak starts back up again, and a shell explodes particularly close, sending hot shrapnel through the canopy and peppering some of the controls.

Hazel feels an impact on her stomach, and pats herself down with one hand, expecting to find blood. Instead when she reaches into her jacket she finds her bible stopped the fragment. "Well, at least I have you…"

She gives the shredded bible a quick peck on the cover and stuffs it back into her jacket as the jets have another go at her, diving from six and eight o'clock high. The hybrid rolls the sluggish plane left and pulls hard on the stick, straining to keep from blacking out in the high-G turn.

The jet at eight o'clock misses its burst and overshoots, climbing back up into the night sky as its wingman has a try, to no avail.

Hazel levels the wings once she's pointed at Hanover and braces for the AAA fire, which doesn't disappoint, though her low altitude only gives some batteries mere seconds to fire, thus decreasing their effectiveness.

"This plane isn't built for this shit!" She yells in frustration, glancing over her left shoulder in search of the jets. Finding no sign of them she looks over her right shoulder to find the same. "Where…?!"

Seeing a flash above her Hazel uses the rudder and skids left, narrowly avoiding a burst from the Witch that ends up slamming into the turret instead of her canopy.

"Damn it!" Hazel snaps. "Give me a break!" She weaves the plane back and forth, trying to throw off the witch's aim, but the more nimble Witch easily keeps up with the sluggish heavy fighter, continuing to pepper it with machine gun fire.

"Hanover what's the status on those planes?! I'm getting shot to hell out here!"

{They're on the way, just hang tight.}

"I can't hang tight any longer! I've got a Witch climbing into the cockpit with me and my defensive turret is out of commission! Is there _anything_ you can do?!"

{We've done all we can. You need to head straight towards us if you want to-}

The transmission is cut short when a bullet strikes the radio, rendering it useless.

Hazel lets out a blue steak of words and is getting ready to ascend and bail out when a witch passes overhead, firing at the witch that was previously riddling Hazel's plane with holes. The East Karlsland witch turns around and abandons her chase of the P-61, running from the new threat that continues to bracket her with MG fire. A mere minute later a pair of Mosquito night fighters zip overhead, followed shortly by a single radar-equipped Britannian F6F.

Hazel levels the wings towards Hanover and climbs to two thousand feet, easing back the throttles to cool the overheating engines.

After five minutes Hazel feels the presence of a witch easing up alongside her, and looks over to find Shirley in her underwear with her bandolier and BAR. The ginger points to her ear questioningly, and Hazel shakes her head, pointing down to the radio before drawing a finger across her throat. Shirley nods in understanding and transmits something through her earpiece, presumably back to base, then slings her BAR on her shoulder.

* * *

The two fly side-by-side until Hazel lines up with the runway at Hanover, at which time Shirley flies ahead and lands, putting her striker unit away and emerging from the hangar just as Hazel touches down the pockmarked heavy fighter.

Hazel taxis the plane to the hangar and cuts the engines once she's parked out front. She remains still in the cockpit, her head rested back with her hands practically vibrating in her lap.

"I made it…" She sighs in relief, remaining still for several minutes until there's a knock on the canopy.

"Hey Hazel! You alright in there?!"

"...Yeah I'm alright Shirley. I was just taking a bit to calm down."

Hazel straightens up in her seat and unlatches the canopy before try to open it, only to find that the mechanism has been jammed. Eager to evacuate herself from the aircraft Hazel swivels in her seat so her back is on the bottom and kicks with both feet at the metal crossbar, denting it. She kicks again and the canopy flies a few feet into the air with a wrenching of metal before landing several yards away on the tarmac.

Sitting upright again Hazel starts to slowly climb out of the plane. "Get me out of this flying deathtrap."

"I'm pretty sure your plane doesn't appreciate you talking about it like that." Shirley warns teasingly.

"Tough shit. This damn plane is inferior to the Mosquito in almost every sense." Desperate to hide her remaining gripes about the P-61 Hazel changes the subject. "Did you get that witch?"

"Nope. I had her dead to rights and she just disappeared into thin air!"

Hazel groans in discomfort when she finally reaches the ground, but starts walking towards the end of the runway opposite from the Neuroi barracks.

"Eh? Hey, where are you going? The Barracks is this way."

Hazel keeps walking but calls back over her shoulder. "The chapel. I'm going to pray for a little bit."

"O-oh. okay… Well don't take too long, you look like you're dead on your feet."

Hazel waves Shirley off and keeps walking, holding her parachute in one hand the entire way to the small chapel. Once at the chapel she drops the chute and sits down, folding her hands together and bowing her head as tears start to roll down her cheeks.

"Thank you…"


	5. Chapter 3: Into the fire

**[A/N]: Sorry 'bout the wait. Writer's block really kicked my ass this chapter. A fair amount of y'all were asking where the chapter was in PM's. Well here it is!**

 **Special thanks to Gamerman22 for letting me use his OC.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

After two weeks of being grounded while Shirley fixes up her P-61, Hazel has gotten the other pilots to at least accept her to the point where she can sit at the same table during meals. They still treat her like a Neuroi and ignore her, but at least they don't move when she sits down with them. She listens to their conversations, catching on the stories and gossip they swap. Mostly it's just the men and witches trying to one-up each other, but one morning a bit of gossip catches her attention.

"Hey, I heard from a buddy in Kiel. The hybrid they had there packed up and transferred here."

"Is she a rookie like ours?"

"Hell no man. She fought in the Neuroi War. She's a veteran through and through. She's an ace, but they don't formally recognize it because she's a hybrid."

Hazel picks at her eggs with her fork until she hears the last bit, then she looks up and leans forward, looking down the table.

"What country is she from?"

"Liberion." A Karlsland witch responds before swilling her milk. "She's older than you, and from what I've heard she's stronger than you are too."

Hazel hunches her back and goes back to pushing her eggs around on her tray. "She's probably a first generation hybrid then. I'm a second generation, so I can't even compare."

The witch looks down the table at her. "You mean there's a difference between hybrids?"

Hazel straightens back up. "Yep. As generations go on the Neuroi abilities we have get weaker very quickly. For instance, I'm only about a quarter as strong as my mother was, my sister is the same way. First generation hybrids tend to look down on second generations, and so forth down the line."

"So what's the easiest way to tell the difference between first and second generation hybrids?"

Hazel thinks for a second before responding. "The eyes. When I use my Neuroi abilities one of my eyes turns red, but with a first generation hybrid both eyes change. The color can vary though."

"Do the colors indicate how strong a hybrid is?" Another witch from Britannia asks.

"No ma'am, not that I've been able to tell. Though it does sometimes indicate where a hybrid does best in. For instance I have red as my color. I specialize in night combat, where red is the hardest color to see. A hybrid with blue may do best in daytime high-altitude interception, or green could indicate an attacker. You get the gist."

A tapping on Hazel's shoulder brings her attention to Barkhorn, who stands behind her in her usual uniform. Hazel gets halfway into a salute before she notices the rank patch on Barkhorn's uniform, then slowly lowers the hand. "Hello Unteroffizier, how can I help you today?"

Barkhorn clenches her fists, retaining her stiff posture. "I've been ordered to be your wingman for the next two months. When are we flying out next?"

"As soon as my plane gets fixed up. I'll go check on the progress once I'm done here."

Hazel turns back to her food and starts eating, attempting to ignore the fact that Barkhorn is still standing directly behind her.

That is, until Minna walks in.

Hazel practically flies out of her seat and snaps to attention, saluting her commanding officer as the witch approaches her.

"At ease. I'd like a word with you if possible Sergeant." The statement is less of a request and more of a stern order, and Hazel gulps before responding.

"Of course ma'am. Lead the way."

Minna pivots on one foot and heads towards the door with Hazel following close behind. They walk to the operations tower and into Minna's office, where a white-haired woman in her mid-twenties stands by the window, her back against the wall and her arms crossed across her rather developed chest.

The woman's blue eyes both seem to glow neon for a second before dimming back to their regular color, and Hazel activates her Neuroi ability for a brief second, flashing her neon red eye at the woman before bowing her head in respect.

The exchange is brief -only a few seconds at most- but it's almost like a handshake, or an exchange of names. It's over before Minna can even sit down in her chair, and the two hybrids turn their attention towards her after assuming 'parade rest'.

"At ease, both of you. Please, sit." The witch commands, relaxing in her chair slightly.

Seeing as how there's only one chair Hazel motions for the other hybrid to take it, but the woman insists that Hazel take it, and so she does.

"Sergeant Hazel Ellerby, this is Sergeant Relius Abernathy. You both will be working together to fly patrols along The Divide. Ellerby will take the night patrols, and Abernathy will take the day patrols. Sergeant Abernathy if you'd kindly step out for a second, I need to have a word with Hazel."

Hazel flinches at Minna's use of her first name, and Relius walks out, softly closing the door behind her. Minna's smile quickly fades, replaced by a look that shows no nonsense, along with some irritation and anxiety.

"Listen, I know both you and Trude are probably incredibly uncomfortable with working together. If you two don't want to work together then I'll leave it up to you to figure out a way of establishing who's 'top dog'." Minna pauses to let that sink in. "I'll allow anything short of a gun duel or a dogfight, just be warned, her witch ability is enhanced strength."

"Understood ma'am."

"Sergeant Abernathy you may enter again."

The door opens and Relius enters, leaning against the wall nonchalantly while Minna finishes up what she needs to say.

"You two will be bunking in the Witch barracks. Relius I don't suppose you carry a personal weapon?"

The platinum-haired hybrid shakes her head. "No ma'am. Not allowed to due to my… infractions."

"Ah yes… well…" Minna trails off as she opens a drawer and pulls a Walther pistol out of it, placing it on the desk with an extra magazine. "Don't get caught."

Relius pushes off the wall and saunters over, grabbing both the pistol and the magazine and placing them in her jacket pockets. "Understood ma'am."

"Good. Hazel show her to your room and help her get unpacked. Relius… no sneaking off-base please? And if you do then for God's sake don't get into any fights."

"I make no promises Minna, but I'll try to stay out of trouble."

Minna sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Just don't pull anything like you did at Düsseldorf."

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again, that wasn't my fault."

"You broke his arm and shattered his pelvis!"

"He grabbed my ass! What did you expect me to do?!"

"How about show a little restraint?!"

Relius crosses her arms as Hazel starts to awkwardly inch towards the door. "You know I've always jumped from idle to full power."

Minna rests her face in her hands. "Just… get out of my office. Your patrol starts tomorrow. I'll brief you in the morning."

"Yes ma'am. C'mon kid, let's go."

Relius leads the way out, and once outside she grabs her duffel bag from beside the steps before letting Hazel take the lead.

"So whatd'ya fly?" Relius asks, looking down the flight line at the dozens of planes lined up while they walk towards the witch barracks.

"Black Widow. How about you?"

"Mustang. You like the Widow?"

"It's very much a love-hate relationship. Having a turret is nice, but compared to the Mosquito it turns like a bus. The roll rate is pretty nice though."

Relius snorts dismissively. "Well shit, if you compare to the Mosquito then _everything_ sucks."

"Yeah but the Mosquito is the alternative to the Black Widow and it's so much better. Instead of getting it I'm stuck with this lumbering beast."

"What other planes are you trained with?"

"P-47 and B-24."

Relius looks appalled. "No other night fighters? Why the bomber?"

Hazel sighs and shakes her head. "My CO during training was an idiot. But enough about me, tell me a little about yourself. Err… if you want that is…"

"Relax, we're both hybrids. I don't care about the generation difference. Since we're the only two hybrids on base we gotta look out for each other. I served alongside Minna in '45 at the end of the Neuroi War, hence why we were acting kinda buddy-buddy back there." The older hybrid looks around and leans in to whisper to Hazel. "Between you, me, and the tarmac. Minna doesn't really believe in this whole thing about treating Neuroi as lessers."

"That's better than I can say for my wingman…" Hazel grumbles, leading the way into the witch barracks.

"Who is your wingman? The only thing I've heard is she sent you on a suicide mission and locked you up afterwards."

Hazel jerks a thumb towards Barkhorn's closed door when they pass it, and Relius blanches. "You've got my sympathy, she's a tough one to get along with. It took me the better part of three months to even get her to talk to me."

"I _really_ don't want her as my wingman. Before she was removed from command she sent all of the Neuroi witches on a suicide mission as a way to remove them from the base."

Relius clenches her fist and grits her teeth. "Yeah. That sounds like something she'd do."

They reach the end of the hall and Hazel pushes open the door. "Welcome home."

Relius enters and tries to see anything beyond the column of light that extends from the door into the room, but ultimately fails. "I guess it would make sense that you get the blackout room huh?"

"Yeah. Here, there's a lamp over here that I use while writing letters home." Hazel gently brushes past the older hybrid and crosses the room to the small desk in the opposite corner. With the strike of a match she has a small oil lamp lit, and the orange glow covers enough of the room for Relius to see.

"Wow… there isn't much in here, is there?"

"Nope. Just the bare essentials. You can have the bed, I'll take the cot."

"Nah, I'll take the cot since I don't like kicking people out of their beds." Relius objects, dropping her bag on the cot in the corner.

"O-okay. Well, I need to go check to see if my plane is fixed up. You coming with?"

"Sure."

* * *

"And here we are!" Hazel chirps excitedly as she grabs the hangar door and pulls it open enough to walk in. "Hey Shirley! How's things looking?!"

Hazel leads the way in with a suddenly excited Relius following close behind, and the ginger-haired witch shouts back while elbow deep in the left engine. "Hey Hazel! I'm just trying to get this damn fuel line connected!"

"Bullshit! You're trying to tune it hot!" Relius calls out, a big grin on her face.

"Alright, you caught m- wait, Relius?!"

"Hey there Thumper, it's been awhile."

Shirley pulls her arm out of the engine and jumps off the ladder, sprinting over to Relius before tackling her in a full body hug. The hybrid hardly budges an inch, though her eyes betray her with their telltale sign that she's using her abilities.

Relius chuckles and hugs Shirley back. "Glad to see you too hun'."

Hazel stares at the spectacle in surprise for a brief moment before a pang of loneliness and jealousy spikes through her heart. She looks away and starts walking towards the back of the hangar, where the four 20mm Hispano cannons are leaned against the wall.

Hazel inspects each one of the guns that she'd cleaned several days earlier and nods in satisfaction, then turns and sets about inspecting the P-61 itself, checking the aluminum skin of the aircraft for any unpatched holes or signs of tampering.

Across the hangar Shirley looks on with an insulted expression. "What is she doing? I've been over that plane at least a dozen times. She's looked over it at least twice that. The only thing I have left to do is tune the engines."

Relius leans against a workbench and looks the young pilot over. "She's distracting herself from other things she doesn't want to think about. She's nervous, scared, and probably homesick. I know that look she's got in her eyes."

Hazel climbs a ladder to look at the rear bubble where the tail-warning radar is supposed to be. "Hey Shirley! Where's the turret and my tail radar?!"

"Waiting on new ones from Northrop! They got shredded in your last fight!" Shirley yells back, watching the hybrid look into the opening where the turret is supposed to fit. Hazel looks around for a second before leaping from the ladder and walking over by the two women.

"Let's get this covered over. I don't absolutely _need_ a turret."

Hazel grabs a sheet of aircraft aluminum and starts carrying it over to the plane while Shirley stares in awe. She opens her mouth to protest, but is silenced by a gentle hand on the shoulder and Relius whispering into her ear. "Keep in mind that the sky is the only freedom she's ever known. She's not like me. She's going to want to get back into the air as soon as possible."

Shirley shuts her mouth and nods before grabbing the necessary equipment needed to rivet the metal into place and lugging it towards the airplane.

* * *

An hour later the metal plate is riveted down and painted black like the rest of the aircraft. Hazel leaves the two veterans to work on tuning the engines, and she makes a brief visit to the chapel before checking in with the supply depot. She enters the small post office with a smile and gains the attention of the sergeant behind the counter with a friendly wave. She's been there enough in the past two weeks that he knows what she's going to ask, and shakes his head before she can get halfway across the space between the door and the counter. Her smile fades away and she stops before slowly turning around and walking out.

Having received no letters from home since she left her training base, Hazel can't bring herself to do anything. So the hybrid slowly trudges her way back to the barracks, and upon getting back in her room she climbs into the bed, curls up in a ball, and goes to sleep for the day with worries of family on her mind.

* * *

A flick on the spine sends Hazel bolting out of bed, and she looks around frantically, her eyes settling on Relius, who has her Neuroi abilities fired up and a big grin below her glowing blue eyes. She stares at the other hybrid for a moment, still not fully comprehending what just happened until Relius relaxes and giggles. "I'm glad to see you're the same way I am! Rise and shine, your planes fixed and it's time for you to eat before you get ready for your patrol."

Hazel stares for a few seconds more before she sits down on her bedside and rubs her eyes sleepily. "Please don't do that again."

"Sorry if I hurt you any. I know those senses can be a little sensitive at times."

"No you didn't hurt me, it just startled the hell outta me. I've never had anyone do that before."

"It's one hell of a wakeup call isn't it?"

Hazel grumbles a few choice words under her breath as she sheds her base uniform and puts her flying gear on, cinching down the harness for her parachute before she slides her necessities into her jacket.

"Bible… pistol… watch… alright!"

The brunette grabs her cap on the way out as she starts to make her way to the mess hall, with Relius following close behind.

"Say, a couple of the witches around base said they saw you lookin' kinda depressed on your way out of the post office. Everything alright?"

"No… I've been writing home every week, but I haven't gotten any letters back. It's starting to worry me. Someone might have done something to my dad."

"How many weeks have you written?"

"This will make five."

"Did you run your letters through the base Censor?"

"Of course I did."

Relius thinks through the possibilities of the situation and eventually shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you. I don't have anybody in Liberion to mail letters to."

"You mean you don't have any family back home?"

Upon fully registering Hazel's question Relius turns her eyes to the floor. "No… mom was a Neuroi witch and dad was an armorer aboard Hornet."

Hazel blanches. Hornet had been sunk pretty late in the war when a new suicide-type Neuroi punched through the belt armor and detonated itself inside the aircraft bomb magazine. Only four sailors aboard survived to get into the water, and only two of those survived until being fished out.

"Oh God I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be. Yeah it sucks, but at least I can go wherever I want when the army isn't breathing down my back."

Hazel is at a loss for words until Shirley rounds the corner. "Oh, perfect timing! I was just coming to give you this."

The red-haired witch holds out her cupped hand to the two hybrids. Resting on her palm are two black buds.

Relius takes one and pockets it, motioning for Hazel to do the same.

"What is this?" The younger hybrid asks, taking the item and pocketing it.

"It's an earpiece. It's how witches use the radio while airborne. This way you'll still be able to talk to us even if your radio gets taken out again." Relius explains, getting close to Shirley.

"Oh. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Us Liberion pilots need to look out for each other."

* * *

Inside the mess hall Hazel breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn't see Barkhorn anywhere and heads for the chow line. Relius tries to stay somewhat incognito, but due to the patch on her uniform identifying her as a hybrid she eventually draws the attention of -and is swarmed by- more than a few curious pilots and witches.

"Are you that ace hybrid?" "What plane do you fly?" "What's your kill count?!"

She puts her hands out and steps to the side to let Shirley move to the chow line. "Alright everyone calm down. Ask your questions one at a time and I'll answer everything I'm comfortable with."

Meanwhile at the chow line Hazel heaps her tray with food, smiling slightly at the spectacle while Shirley shovels food onto her tray in an effort to secure them a seat.

Hazel is grabbing a cup of coffee when Shirley shuffles past. "Gertrud at your four o'clock."

Hazel glances over her right shoulder to see a very tired looking Barkhorn grabbing a tray at the head of the chow line. The witch's eyes are half-lidded, and Hazel starts to shuffle away towards the secluded corner where Shirley has secured a table for the two of them and Relius.

The two of them take their time eating, and Barkhorn doesn't seem to notice them until Relius manages to disengage from the curious flyers and finally secure herself some food. The platinum-haired hybrid eventually sits down with a groan and flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Who knew being popular was so tough."

"Well at least you got a warmer welcome than I did…" Hazel grumbles through a mouthful of scalloped potatoes.

"Heads up, here comes trouble." Shirley warns, glancing past Hazel as Barkhorn approaches, still looking utterly exhausted. The Karlsland Witch snaps to attention behind Hazel and makes her presence better known. "Sergeant Ellerby, Unteroffizier Barkhorn reporting to accompany you on your flight tonight."

Hazel feigns ignorance at her fatigued appearance and turns around, doing a very good job at appearing shocked. "My lord Barkhorn! At ease. Go get yourself some food and then report to your rack. There is no way on earth you're joining me looking like that!"

"But I-" Barkhorn starts to protest, but Hazel cuts her off.

"I know you have your orders, but I can tell you right now that if you went to the commander she would tell you the same thing."

Barkhorn looks like she wants to argue further, but eventually gives in. "Yes ma'am. I'll go rest up so I can join you tomorrow night."

Barkhorn snaps one last salute before walking away, and once she's out of earshot Hazel sighs. "Not to mention that having someone with me _completely_ throws night fighter protocol out the window. I really need to bring that up with Minna."

"How does that mess up night fighter protocol?" Relius asks, spearing a piece of potato with her fork.

"Well, when you go on patrol you day fighters bring numbers because it's easier to identify who's friend and who's foe. But because I fight at night it's much more difficult to do that, so one plane patrols a certain area, and if any plane enters that area it's hostile without a doubt. It prevents two pilots from accidentally mistaking each other for the enemy. But, it's more difficult to identify if a witch is friendly or not."

"And so night fighters usually don't work with witches for that same reason."

"Exactly. In order to figure out if a witch is friendly you have to get close, where you're at a distinct disadvantage no matter what plane you're in." Hazel finishes explaining before she checks the clock and starts shoveling food into her mouth.

"Why the rush? You've still got plenty of time before it gets dark." Relius asks, setting down her fork.

Hazel continues eating, but reaches into her jacket and pulls out a new bible, showing it to the other hybrid before jamming it back into the inside pocket.

"You're hurrying on eating so you can go pray?"

Hazel nods while she chews the last of her food. After swallowing the last bite she knocks back her coffee and gets ready to leave. "Yep. Meet me in the hangar in ten minutes."

Hazel walks off, leaving the two veterans to converse about old times.

* * *

After a brief visit to the base chapel Hazel heads to the hangar and does a walk-around of her aircraft, ensuring everything looks as it should before climbing into the cockpit. She's hardly there for a minute before Relius and Shirley push the doors all the way open, allowing the orange glow of the setting sun into the interior.

Relius climbs up the ladder to stand face-to-face with Hazel. "You ready? Intel says there might be a raid tonight. Minna wanted me to let you know."

"Yeah, I'm ready. For whatever may happen." Hazel gives Relius a nod along with her confirmation.

"Alright. Remember, you don't have a tail warning radar now, so check your six before you dedicate to a kill."

"I will. Thanks Relius."

The older hybrid reaches up and grabs the canopy, pulling it down so Hazel can lock it closed. Hazel locks the canopy before Relius jumps down and starts cycling the left engine with Shirley, pushing oil through to all the cylinders instead of just the bottom few. Once they're done cycling the engine Relius reaches into her pocket and puts the earbud in before signaling for Hazel to do the same.

Hazel thrusts her hand into her pocket and pulls the earpiece out, fumbling with it for a second before she gets it put in her ear under her flight cap.

 _{Alright, can you hear me?}_

"Yeah, loud and clear."

 _{Good. Go ahead and start this engine.}_

Hazel reaches around the cockpit, making sure the cowl flaps are closed before opening the fuel cutoff and applying power to the left engine.

"Here goes nothing."

The engine whines and starts to turn, two blades later the engine pops, spins, and turns over, roaring to life inside the hangar.

 _{That one's sounding good. Let us cycle the other one.}_

The two circle around to the other side, cycle the prop, and watch as it starts up just like the other engine.

 _{Alright, we're pulling the chocks.}_

"Roger that. Thanks for the help."

 _{Don't mention it, just watch yourself up there.}_ Relius responds as she pulls the chocks out from under the right wheel. Shirley pulls the left side, and they both drag the chocks out the front door with them as they run out.

Hazel slowly guides the plane out of the hangar and throws a salute to the two before turning down the taxiway.

As she rolls down the tarmac Hazel and Relius stand hand-in-hand, watching the Black Widow while it turns onto the runway, pauses, and then starts to roll, the double-wasp engines voicing their might as they propel the aircraft into the darkening sky.

* * *

Three hours after takeoff Hazel is finishing the first half of her patrol when she gets a quartet of contacts on her radar, moving slow at a high altitude. Recalling the intel that Relius shared with her the young hybrid turns on her oxygen system and climbs up to meet the incoming aircraft.

"Relius! Shirley! Warn the commander, there's bombers inbound through my sector! Altitude is looking like fifteen thousand!"

 _{Roger that kid, give 'em hell, but watch out for escorts!}_

Hazel gradually climbs up to the point where she's above the four Yer-2 heavy bombers and noses in for the attack, using her radar to guide her onto the target until she can see it.

Hazel is just lining up on the closest bomber when a small contact zips in from above and behind. The hybrid breaks off from the attack, but it's too late to avoid the witch. With a wrenching screech of metal being torn her canopy is pulled open, then off, and a pair of hands grabs her under the armpits, trying to pull her up and out of the aircraft. Her harness keeps her in place, but the pressure threatens to break her bones before the heavy-duty straps.

The mid-air struggle continues as Hazel blindly punches above her head, trying to get the witch to at least release her.

"God damn it!"

 _{Hazel? What's wrong?!}_

"She's trying to pull me out!"

 _{Who?! What?!}_

"There's an enemy witch trying to pull me out!"

 _{WHAT?! Hold on! I'm in the air!}_ Relius cries as the witch releases Hazel's right arm and grabs her left, determined to either pull her out or break bones doing it.

But in doing so she allows Hazel to grab her pistol, and the hybrid manages to get the sidearm of the holster before the witch pulls hard on her left arm. The bone breaks with a crack that Hazel hears over the sound of the engines and the wind, and she screams before turning in her seat and emptying all eight rounds out of the pistol in the direction of the white-haired witch in rapid succession.

The over-the-shoulder shooting results in the witch releasing Hazel's arm before disappearing from sight, leaving the hybrid terrified and in pain.

For a few second the only sound that registers is her labored breathing under her oxygen mask, until Relius fades in through the earpiece.

 _{Hazel! You alright kid?! I heard gunshots!}_

Hazel takes stock of the situation before responding. 'Fifteen thousand feet, two hundred knots, five degree dive, heading towards Hanover'

"Y-yeah… I'm… I'm alright. She's gone. Go get the bombers."

 _{You sure you're alright?}_

"I… no… or, yes… she broke my arm. That's it."

 _{How bad did she break it?}_

Reluctantly, Hazel reaches up with her right hand and gently pulls the limp arm around so her hand is in her lap. "O-oh God I can see the bone. W-what should I do?"

 _{Don't do anything! Don't touch it! If you try to put it back in chances are you'll just make things worse!}_

"But I can't operate both the throttles and the stick at the same time." Hazel groans in discomfort as the pain from the injury finally makes itself known.

 _{Hey I know it sucks but stay with me! Keep talking to me until you're on the ground!}_

"I can't. I've gotta focus on flying. What's the status on those bombers? Have you guys got 'em yet?"

 _{I'm engaging right now. Shirley's on the way to make sure you get back safe.}_

"What? No! Shirley get up there and help Relius! Don't worry about me, those bombers need to go!"

 _{The bombers are done, I'm taking down the last one now.}_

"W-what? How'd you…"

 _{Trade secret, just worry about getting yourself back to base.}_

"A-alright."

With her left arm laying limp Hazel is forced to do everything in the cockpit with her right, sometimes holding the stick in between her knees while she manipulates the throttles or controls for cooling the engines.

The distance back to base seems like an eternity as the adrenaline fades, and when Shirley meets up with Hazel it becomes clear how much trouble the hybrid is in. Sweat runs down her face, mixing in with the tears that flow from her heterochromatic eyes. Halfway up her tricep a solid three inches of bone juts out of her flight suit, staining the dark green fabric with blood.

 _{Hazel! Talk to me here, how you doing?!}_ Shirley asks, flying alongside the P-61.

"I… I can't feel my fingers. My head is pounding. Is this what blood loss feels like?"

 _{Does your arm still hurt?}_

"Yeah… it hurts like hell."

 _{You're gonna be fine. Just let me know if it stops hurting.}_

"O-okay. How far out is the base?"

 _{We're over Burgdorf now, almost there.}_

"That's… what... a few miles?" Hazel's mind reels while she tries to figure out the distance to the base.

 _{Don't worry about it. We're almost there, just focus on keeping straight and level.}_

"But… what about lining up for the runway?"

 _{We're not going to use the runway. Once we get above the base you're gonna bail out and I'll catch you.}_

 _{Hey wait a second Shirley! If she does that then you might just make her injuries worse! Let her take it in. Worse case scenario she belly-lands it and tears up the grass.}_ Relius interjects.

 _{No, worse case scenario she cartwheels it down the runway and dies! We can't-}_

Hazel reaches up and pulls the earpiece out, and drops it in the floor before continuing to fly. She starts to descend, letting the stick float free for a second while she reaches over and adjusts the throttles.

After a minute Shirley flies in front of Hazel's windscreen, turns around, and waves to get her attention, though she doesn't need to.

Hazel scowls, holds the joystick in between her knees, and motions for the witch to get out of her way before returning her grasp back to the controls.

Shirley flips back over and moves off to the side just as four balls of fire can be spotted on the ground.

A small aircraft approaches from above, angling to pull alongside the night fighter. It slows down and holds formation off Hazel's right wing for a solid minute before Hazel looks over to see the electric blue glow of Relius' eyes above an oxygen mask inside the cockpit.

The glow flickers and dims so it's not so intense, asking the younger hybrid a question without a single word being spoken.

 _'Can you do it?'_

Hazel looks down at her broken arm, then back over at the other hybrid. With a slow nod she steels herself and drops the nose down to start lining up with the runway.

Relius pulls up and passes inverted over Hazel, once again grabbing the younger hybrid's attention. This time the interceptor points to her ear, her eyes dimming again to exchange yet another message.

 _'Put your earpiece in so we can talk.'_

Hazel leans forward, quickly locating the yellow and black earpiece before briefly releasing the stick to grab it and stuff it in her right ear.

 _{Can you hear me?}_

"Yeah… I can hear you."

 _{Listen… I'm sorry for getting in an argument on the radio. Especially over such a personal topic. I'm just trying my best to make sure you get home alive.}_

"I understand."

 _{Alright. Here's the plan. Shirley's running ahead and making sure the medics are ready and waiting for you. I'm going to stay right here with you until your wheels touch the ground.}_

"Al-alright. I… I'm sorry."

 _{What are you apologizing for? You have nothing to be sorry for.}_

"I'm sorry for being such a burden… if I was a better pilot then stuff like this wouldn't happen."

 _{Don't be stupid. Getting shot up or hurt on a flight is a normal for hybrids! Hell, it's almost expected! Besides, we've all gotta start somewhere.}_

"How… how many times have you been wounded on a flight?"

 _{Beats me, we'll have to count up my purple hearts when you're feeling better. I know for certain that I've survived at least six crash landings.}_

 _{That number is closer to a dozen Relius. You've had at least eight in the time we've been together.}_

"Wait… you two are a thing…?"

 _{Officially? No. Realistically? Yes.}_ Relius confirms, taking off her oxygen mask to reveal a big grin.

 _{If anyone asks the answer is no. Simply because it's not allowed.}_ Shirley explains.

 _{Which is complete and utter bullshit but whatever… Anyway, we're two miles out. Are you going to belly 'er in or do it the old-fashioned way?}_

"I'm going to try to land. I don't want to mess up my plane, but if it happens… oh well."

 _{Alright.}_

The two veterans fly alongside the Black Widow as Hazel guides it towards the runway, checking her landing gear and watching tensely as the younger pilot guides it into the runway.

Ten feet above the runway Hazel holds the stick in between her thighs and reaches over to drop power, but her waning strength allows the stick to slip free, dropping the nose, and letting the plane slam down onto the tarmac.

The nose wheel doesn't withstand the sudden impact, and folds in on itself, letting the nose drop and start grinding on the concrete runway in a shower of sparks that continues down the runway until the plane eventually grinds to a halt, its propellers bent around the engine cowling.

Hazel sits slumped forward in the cockpit as the ambulances, fire trucks, and additional personnel rush towards the plane. Blood trickles down the bridge of her nose from a cut on her forehead where her head struck the gunsight.

Relius circles around and lands while Shirley speeds over to the P-61 and lands next to it, kicking off her striker units before climbing up to the cockpit.

"Hazel!"

The witch quickly undoes the harness holding the unconscious pilot in place and hauls her out, dropping to the ground before turning her loose to two medics with a stretcher. In seconds the medics have the young hybrid on the stretcher and in the back of the ambulance, which speeds off once the doors are slammed closed.

With only the moon and the sound of the fire crews to keep her company she collects her striker units and carries them off, watching the ambulance drive off towards the base hospital.

Further up the runway Relius guides her P-51 off the active runway and taxi's towards an empty spot on the grass. She's forced to wait for a night fighter variant of the ME-410 to pass, and after she parks and powers down she finds Minna waiting for her.

"I need your opinion on something."


End file.
